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Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Rooker Feldman, Desperate Consumer Bankruptcy Attorney, just back from Beijing where he competed in the Pie-in-Creditors'-Faces competition, bringing home the Plastic Medal for America, was exhausted as he settled in at his desk.

Mable stuck her head in.

"Mr. Feldman, welcome back. Congratulations on your Plaster Medal."

"Plastic," Rooker corrected her.

"Whatever," replied Mable. "Got a call while you were gone. Remember Jim Bingespender? He was a client about 30 years ago?"

Rooker stared at her blankly.

"You handled his chapter 7?"

"Mable! Get to the point."

"Well, he called and he's been getting harassed for a debt that was supposed to be discharged in his bankruptcy."

"And?"

"And he wants to know what you're going to do about it."

"Of course," muttered Rooker. "I knew that."

"Well, have him fax some documents showing it's a pre-petitiion debt, and whatever letter he got from the creditor."

"He says he can't find any documents regarding this debt. He doesn't even remember it. And he's lost the letter he got from the creditor."

"Perfect," muttered Feldman. "Well, have him give us a $750 retainer fee on a credit card, and I'll look into it. If I can even find the file from 30 years ago. Criminy!"

"He says the bill collector is only demanding $1,000."

"Yeah, yeah. Make a note of it and let me know when we get retained. Otherwise I'm not going to risk my life poking around the storage room."

"But ... Mr. Feldman, he only owes $1,000."

There was silence in the room.

"And you want me to charge him $750?"

"Mable. I've had a hard month. I just got out of e-filing rehab two weeks ago. Mable, do you know what life is?"

Mable stared blankly.

"Life's a pinata, Mable. You hit it real hard with a stick and lots of cheap presents fall out."

"Mable, I just flew back from Beijing, in steerage. Do you know how long that flight is? It's 325 hours! And what did I win for my country? The Plastic Medal for 25th place. I couldn't throw a pie straight to save my life. And I just get back to the office and you unload this on me?"

"Mable, please call Mr. Bingedollar, or whatever his name is, AND TELL HIM I CAN'T HELP HIM! TELL HIM LIFE'S A PINATA, AND BE THANKFUL FOR WHATEVER CHEAP PRISES HE'S GOTTEN IN LIFE! TELL HIM DE MINIMUS NON CURAT LEX!* TELL HIM NEVER TO CALL ME AGAIN! MABLE, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

Mable was very quiet.

After a moment, Feldman looked up at her and in a softer voice added ...

"But say it with love."

World without end.

Amen.

* The Law Has No Cure For Trifles."
mediablog 7:59 AM - [Link] - Comments ()
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Rooker, just back from Beijing where he competed in the Pie-in-Creditors'-Faces competition, bringing home the Plastic Medal for America, was exhausted as he settled in at his desk.

Mable stuck her head in.

"Mr. Feldman, welcome back. Congratulations on your Plaster Medal."

"Plastic," Rooker corrected her.

"Whatever," replied Mable. "Got a call while you were gone. Remember Jim Bingespender? He was a client about 30 years ago?"

Rooker stared at her blankly.

"You handled his chapter 7?"

"Mable! Get to the point."

"Well, he called and he's been getting harassed for a debt that was supposed to be discharged in his bankruptcy."

"And?"

"And he wants to know what you're going to do about it."

"Of course," muttered Rooker. "I knew that."

"Well, have him fax some documents showing it's a pre-petitiion debt, and whatever letter he got from the creditor."

"He says he can't find any documents regarding this debt. He doesn't even remember it. And he's lost the letter he got from the creditor."

"Perfect," muttered Feldman. "Well, have him give us a $750 retainer fee on a credit card, and I'll look into it. If I can even find the file from 30 years ago. Criminy!"

"He says the bill collector is only demanding $1,000."

"Yeah, yeah. Make a note of it and let me know when we get retained. Otherwise I'm not going to risk my life poking around the storage room."

"But ... Mr. Feldman, he only owes $1,000."

There was silence in the room.

"And you want me to charge him $750?"

"Mable. I've had a hard month. I just got out of e-filing rehab two weeks ago. Mable, do you know what life is?"

Mable stared blankly.

"Life's a pinata, Mable. You hit it real hard with a stick and lots of cheap presents fall out."

"Mable, I just flew back from Beijing, in steerage. Do you know how long that flight is? It's 325 hours! And what did I win for my country? The Plastic Medal for 25th place. I couldn't throw a pie straight to save my life. And I just get back to the office and you unload this on me?"

"Mable, please call Mr. Bingedollar, or whatever his name is, AND TELL HIM I CAN'T HELP HIM! TELL HIM LIFE'S A PINATA, AND BE THANKFUL FOR WHATEVER CHEAP PRISES HE'S GOTTEN IN LIFE! TELL HIM DE MINIMUS NON CURAT LEX!* TELL HIM NEVER TO CALL ME AGAIN! MABLE, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

Mable was very quiet.

After a moment, Feldman looked up at her and in a softer voice added ...

"But say it with love."

World without end.

Amen.

* The Law Has No Cure For Trifles."
mediablog 12:00 AM - [Link] - Comments ()
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Wednesday, July 09, 2008

FEAR AND LOATHING ON THE BANKRUPTCY TRAIL

Rooker ("Rocky") Feldman was rushed to the local Our Insolvent Lady of Mercy Hospital, over bumpy roads unrepaired for 20 years by the City and County of We Done Gone Broke, after his front-desk girl Mable found him sitting at his desk mumbling nonsense.

"How much debt could Claudette forget
If Claudette could forget debt?"

"How much lasagne could Tanya put on ya
If Tanya put lasagne on ya?"

That was the normal part.

But then the gibberish began . . .

"He-settin, I-settin, you-settin, we-settin. Deed-a-bye, deed-a-bye, deed-a-bye die!"

He stared at Mable. Mable stared back.

Mable called 911.

Oh, how had it all come to this?

Rocky's day started out ok. Then . . .

He was told by the court clerk that e-filing was now mandatory. So, he cheerfully went to work setting his computer up for e-filing, only to find out that his old reliable, familiar MS-DOS 386 with Wordstar was obsolete.

"When did that happen?" he muttered to himself.

So, he shelled out some moola and bought a new computer.

Then he discovered that his programs wouldn't work on the new computer.

He was told his outmoded applications were incompatible with the new, state-of-the-art technology, and he would have to install all updated ones.

"Of course" he muttered to himself.

Finally he was ready.

Or not.

His printer wouldn't work with the new computer. So, Rocky forked over some more moola for a new printer.

And, he was strongly advised to get a new monitor, as well. More moola.

Finally, he sat at his desk, nursing a cup of coffee (with a little Brandy thrown in), and proudly contemplated his state-of-the-art systems.

He was content and at peace with himself as he commenced to upload his first document.

It didn't work. Instead, a message appeared on the screen.

"Parsing error! File could not upload."

"Parsing error?" he muttered to himself.

"What the hell is a parsing error? Mable! Get someone on the line who can tell me what a parsing error is."

"What?" Mable yelled back from the front desk.

A few moments passed, and Mable opened the door and stuck her head in.

"Excuse me, Mr. Feldman. Did you say Parsing Error? What the hell is a parsing error?"

"Mable! That's what I want you to tell ME!"

A few hours later the parsing error message suddenly disappeared.

Rooker took this as a good sign, but worried that the parsing error hadn't really gone away ... but was just ... waiting ... waiting ...

Rocky poured himself a nice cup of brandy (with a little coffee thrown in), and settled contentedly in his chair.

In triumph, he pressed "send" to upload his first document.

"Error" said his monitor. "You have filed this document under the category "Affidavit." This document is not an affidavit. Please re-upload into folder for "Declaration.""

Rocky and the mysterious entity on the other end played this cat and mouse game for a few hours, about whether there was a difference between an affidavit and a declaration, with little progress being made.

And then the mystery person threw in a new monkey wrench.

"Due to errors you have made attempting to upload improper affidavits, you can no longer upload these documents. Please re-file them but do not upload them."

Rooker stared at the screen.

"How the hell do I re-file without re-uploading?" he murmured.

Rooker e-mailed the court clerk:

"Clerk, how does one re-file without uploading?"

Then answer came back:

"The judge does not accept ex parte communications by email. Please upload your question."

Rooker heaved a long sigh, and typed in his question to upload it.

"OK, Little Miss Upload," he murmured. "UPLOAD THIS!"

But when he hit the "upload" key, a little sign came on asking for his user name and password.

"OH, CRAP!" he shouted. "Does this ever end?"

He eventually found the sticky-note with his user name and password laying on the floor under his desk.

He entered them and hit the "send" key.

"Your user name and password do not match" came the message. "Please pick a new password."

By this time Feldman was perspiring heavily, but he was not going to give up.

Quoting from Invictus he whispered "I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul."

He entered a new password, and hit the key.

"You have picked a user name that is already taken," came the message. "Please call your service provider."

He stared in disbelief. "Of course the user name is already taken. IT'S ME!" he shouted. -

That was the moment Rooker encountered what in science is known as "The Singularity," the moment when one's soul comes so close to a black hole of technology it can't avoid falling right into it. The gravity is so strong nothing comes out. Certainly nothing that could possibly answer Rooker's questions.

And so we leave Rocky Feldman at the psychiatric unit of Our Insolvent Lady, where he is resting comfortably.

Later, in the middle of the night, back at Rooker's office the computer monitor flickered back on.

"Parsing error!" it said. "File could not upload."

World without end. Amen.
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Saturday, January 27, 2007

INCREASE SEEN IN FAMILY INTERVENTIONS FOR BANKRUPTCY LAWYERS STRUNG-OUT ON BANKRUPTCY REFORM

Rooker Feldman, Director of the famed Feldman Asylum For The Insolvent, reported today a marked increase in the number of freaked-out lawyers whose families are kidnapping them and forcing them into rehab to get the Bankruptcy Code out of their system.

"They're the lucky ones," said Feldman at a press conference. "Many keep reading the Bankruptcy Code until it's too late. The reform prions (a recent discovery by the Feldman Foundation, reform prions cause holes to develop in one's cerebral cortex) eventually find their way from the pages of the Code into the lawyers' brains. The early symptoms are the occasional holes in their interpretation of legislative intent (based on the false premise that the legislature was conscious at the time it enacted the Reform Act). This progresses to the point where every question put to them by their clients elicits the exact same peevish response: "How the hell do I know?" followed by the lawyers' eyeballs drifting up and to the left, and twitching for several seconds, which creeps out many clients.

The brain becomes starved for oxygen and logic, which in many cases drives the lawyers to inject steroids directly into their cerebral cortexia. This helps the brain muscle up, which in turn increases the pressure on the eyes, which explains why many debtors' attorneys show up at the meetings of creditors with their eyes bulging and seemingly in a trance, looking like deer caught in the headlights.

Some of them, according to Feldman, "get off" on the Code by having an associate strangle them while they're reading section 362. By cutting off the air temporarily, it intensifies the experience enormously. But, unfortunately, sometimes the associate waits too long before releasing his or her grip on the lawyer's throat, resulting in minor brain damage. At that point, there's little they can do to make a living, except become president of the U.S., or a talking-head for Fox News.

"We are determined," concluded Feldman, "to find a cure. Fortunately, at this point it does not appear to be sexually transmitted, athough that is moot, since debtors' attorneys have no known sex-life. But the prion is a tough beast. It'll take years."
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Sunday, December 10, 2006

As we approach a season deemed a Holy time by many, I want to share some thoughts.

I think back over a legal career of 35 years, and then a lifetime that is now in its 62nd year, and ask, what have I learned? What have I observed? Is it even possible to sum anything up?

Yes, I think to some extent, at least. What, after all, is to be said about all the defeats, the unfairness, the undignified, the silly, the humiliating, the cruel? And what is to be said about the unexpected disappointments of success itself?

I have observed some things that transcend the disappointments.

At the beginning of my career I saw only clients, and friends, and civic opinion leaders, and colleagues . . . But not much more.

NOW I OBSERVE PEOPLE differently, not as faces and voices. Underneath the skin I see The Walking Wounded. The people we deal with every day, who seem functional, normal, conversational, on the inside are, in so many cases, coping with disappointment, deep sadness, great fear and insecurity, yes, the scars and open wounds of terrible things.

Even for those for whom no great tragedy or defeat has happened, there are the thousand little humiliations and defeats of each day. And the worst of it is that so much of it is ambiguous. They all deal with what I supposed may be called The Fog of Living. Sometimes the Fog seems very thick and difficult to get through . . . the loneliness of the Fog. "But they kept making the fog thicker and thicker ..."*

And yet they carry on in the ordinariness of life, each day doing their best to live according to what, consciously or not, they think it means to be a Human Being. I see nobility there.

To each of you I have met, I acknowledge your greatness, or at the very least, your aspiring to Something Better in Yourselves. I know that if I were to carry your cross, I might find it heavy, indeed, and my spirit be bent under its weight. And yet I see how straight you walk, so I try to walk a little straighter.

"However small we were," wrote Carl Sagan, "something in us was large."

"There is in everyone," wrote David O. McKay**, "a something good looking for a something better."

IN THIS COUNTRY the season is an essentially Christian one, due to the accidents of history and culture. I do not mean to omit the wonderful metaphors and songs and values of other religious traditions. So, please forgive me if I allude only to the Christian one for a moment.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, in his address to the graduating class of Harvard University on July 15, 1838, said this of Jesus Christ:

"Alone in all history, he estimated the greatness of man."

We may debate whether he was "alone in all history" in this estimation, but that would be missing the point. It is not who estimated it, but that it was observed. The "Greatness of man."

"... henceforth nothing they have a mind to do will be beyond their reach." - Genesis, 11:6

AND ONE THING I have come to believe is that the true measure of life is how closely it achieves its potential.

Yes, I reject the concept of entropy, that the universe is winding down. I believe that in quiet, unseen ways (yes, here I invoke Quantum Physics) the important things in the universe struggle to become something more, to achieve a potential, and that this Law governs you and me, as well.

"All things," wrote Peter Beagle***, "are crouched in eagerness to become something else."

I HAVE MENTIONED in previous messages that I have a poster on my wall, that has a picture of a book, and a rose petal on the book, and the words, "The Triumph of Love Over Rage." And I think the need for love to transcend rage is the key to another fundamental truth that guides my life, and I think yours, as well.

BECAUSE I BELIEVE, after a lifetime of observing clients, and friends, and civic opinion leaders, and colleagues, that the principal mission of a life is the Search For Something to Love. This Something may be an idea, a quest, a person, a thing, a country, a craft, a God. I believe it is what the Three Wise men (yes, metaphorically speaking) set out to find on their camels. And I believe that you and I are those wise men.

Wrote the great legal philosopher Karl Llewellyn****, "So, too, and so only, if you are one of those queer souls who dream dreams of something, somehow, sometime better, can you be proof against disgust."

Yes, I know there is the daily reality of grubbing for fees to pay the rent, of reaching for the bottle of anti-depressants, of scrambling to keep on top of the rules of law that govern our craft.

NEVERTHELESS, YOU AND I, this season let us mount our metaphorical camels, tuck our metaphorical myrrh under our arms, and set out toward that noble thing we love ... or renew the quest to find it.

And in our travels toward whatever star we follow, let us make our statement, however halting and vague, about what we believe it means to be a Human Being.

And, oh, yes, along the way, encourage someone we love to do the same.

World without end.

Amen.
_____________________

* The indian chief, Ken Kesey's One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest.
** A Christian philosopher
*** Author of The Last Unicorn.
**** Karl N. Llewellyn, The Bramble Bush, Oceana Publications, 1960.
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Saturday, November 11, 2006

PRESIDENT ADMITS HIS MISTAKE IN SIGNING REFORM ACT - THOUGHT HE WAS AUTHORIZING THE INVASION OF NICARAGUA

Blaming a simple clerical mishap, President Bush admitted he signed the wrong bill into law. It turns out, while looking for weapons of mass destruction on his oval office desk he accidentally mixed up some papers ready for his signature. In fact he signed a bunch of things that day but can't remember what they were. He admits he was warned by his former Secretay of State that if he messed with the Bankruptcy Code, he would own it. The President replied, "Consumers will welcome us as liberators."

He apologized to the whole country with, "Oops! My bad!"

IN OTHER NEWS

DEBTORS ADMIT THEY WERE FINANCIALLY IRRESPONSIBLE - APOLOGIZE TO CREDITORS

CREDITORS CRY "WE DIDN'T MEAN IT!"

In a touching moment of national reconciliation yesterday thousands of debtors and hundreds of CEOs of credit card finance companies met to hug and forgive.

With tears running down their cheeks debtors promised to never be late again on their credit card payments.

Upon hearing this inspiring message of redemption among the consumer class, the credit card company CEOs assured them there was no need to be so anal-retentive, and that they didn't really mean to punish consumers for late payments, pointing out that if consumers actually paid on time the finance companies would go bankrupt, since most of their profits come from penalties for late payments.

AND THIS JUST IN -

"A REALLY, REALLY ANNOYING TRUTH" RELEASED TO THEATERS NEAR YOU

More frightening than Ann Coulter under your bed, this documentary shows hundreds of lawyers brain-dead from attempting to cope with bankruptcy reform, walking aimlessly down the middle of main street in cities across the country, making muffled muttering sounds that some think may be a new language - "Means test, queen's chest, debtors in your stew. Median, comedian, Whatever can we do?." If anthropologists can decipher this gibberish it could change how we view our place in the cosmos.

Or not

The narrator explains in simple sentences and well-concealed alarm that it is a problem the nation can't ignore. This sudden new phenomenon, says the narrator, is like pulling on the thread of a sweater - if consumer bankruptcy lawyers come unravelled, it could undo an entire ecosystem on which we all rely.

The biggest fish eat the medium size fish. The medium size fish eat the little fish. And the little fish eat the tiny little specs of things that float around. Our entire economy depends on it.

World without end.

Amen

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Wednesday, November 01, 2006

THE ORIGIN OF THE "ZOMBIE RULE" IN BANKRUPTCY

As we all know by now, the Bankruptcy Reform Act of 2005 added section 563 to the Bankruptcy Code. This section provides that the debtor's attorney must file a certification certifying that his client is alive, rather than dead. This is a statutory enactment of the rule in In re Zombie Jamboree, a controversial ruling by Hon. Oxley ("Loose Cannon") Sarbannes, presiding judge of the 16th Circuit.

In addition to adding the requirement to verify a living, breathing client, the new statute prescribes that the debtor's attorney must take a blood sample from the client to match against a national database of DNA, unless the debtor is determined to have already been bled dry by the chapter 7 trustee. The problem is that the debtor could not be bled dry by the trustee unless he was already a debtor, and he couldn't be a debtor if he was dead (hence the well-known phrase "Deador in bankruptcy").

The Zombie Jamboree case held that in the event the debtor was either dead or subsequently bled dry, the court could excuse the debtor's corpse from the meeting of creditors, thus avoiding the problem of a trustee trying to bleed dry an already bled dead debtor.

In a subsequent, similar case, Judge Sarbannes was again confronted with what what by then was known as the "Zombie conundrum." Luckily, he found a case providing precedent which guided him in ruling on the new case . . . his published opinion in his first case, In re Zombie Jamboree.

Sometime after that, judge Sarbannes was, amazingly, again confronted with a Zombie case. He dispatched this case even faster, citing two previous cases as precedent.

By the time judge Sarbannes saw his 4th case involving the same issue, he noticed an emerging trend in case law. "Every case that has ruled on this issue," he announced, "has held that the debtor, if dead or bled dry prepetition, may be excused from the meeting of creditors." Whereupon he cited his 3 previous rulings on the topic.

Finally, another judge in the country had a case involving the Zombie issue. After delving deeply into legislative intent ("What in the hell were they smoking?") and doing a careful analysis of the statute (a one-paragraph memo from the law clerk), the judge resolved the question by citing "the weight of authority" which excused the debtor under the described circumstances. The weight of authority consisted of Judge Sarbannes four previous opinions.

Today, courts everywhere are satisfied that it is a "well settled rule," and all similar cases are quickly dispatched as they came up.

Which is why, today, dead or bled debtors everywhere breath easier knowing they will not have to drag their rotting stinking carcasses to a meeting of creditors.

World without end.

Amen.

mediablog 9:46 PM - [Link] - Comments ()
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