A Soka University Misadventure ...

Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined driving a car and being chased by security personnel on a golf cart. That was exactly what happened to Ray and I one hot humid afternoon a few days ago. 

It was a sweltering day and Ray and I found ourselves at Soka University, a 4-year liberal arts college in Aliso Viejo. I’ve been going there for years now to use their ultra-modern library. There is a tiny corner in the building where solitude and tranquility seems to follow me – an experience that I rarely get from other libraries. I was recently informed that the university has only a population of about 400 students, which partly explains the lack of foot traffic and the attendant noise. Lately, it served as my Headquarters of sorts as I prepare all the papers and documents for my legal fight.

It was Ray’s first visit and we had planned to use the shower room to cool off. It was so hot that I was already sweating when we got there. I had done this no more than three times before and didn’t think much of it. But as I got inside, Ray was halted by a coach who asked him,  “what’s your business here?” He was wearing trousers, a button down polo shirt and dress shoes, attire that students would rarely wear on campus. He stuck out like a sore thumb. I then walked up to the coach who up until that moment didn’t know that I was already in the locker room. I explained to him that we were both homeless and living in our cars and only wish to take a shower to cool off. He then rehashed the recent shootings at Virginia Tech that resulted in many student deaths. As a last resort, if only to try to impress upon him our peaceful intentions, I said, “Coach, the difference between Virginia Tech and now is that we are not students and have no intentions of harming people”. To which, he replied, “you’ll have to leave or I’ll call security”.

Within minutes, we found ourselves in my car and on our way out of the campus. As I turned the corner, I observed a security guard chasing me down with his golf cart. It was a scene out of the Kingston Cops. While driving I could see from my rear view mirror that he was also on a handheld radio speaking rapidly to someone. It was obvious that we had been reported and viewed as a potential security risk. We were then stopped at the gate and were treated to a less than pleasant regimen of admonishments by the security staff.

I have been the recipient of such things before. I was even carried out of a building by two security guards early in my selling career for soliciting inside a building. But this merits mention because it exemplifies a lack of communication between the leaders and the individuals who actually interact with the public. The university regards itself as a producer of leaders and prides itself in its adherence to the “Buddhist principles of peace, human rights and sanctity of life.” Their value set also includes “Wisdom, courage and compassion” – words that I culled from their website.

I hope that our unfortunate misadventure was the result of the overzealous application of the university rules. Because if it were not this incident shows a feeble corporate culture that does not stand firm on the values and principles it claims to abide by. One can even argue an unfortunate misinterpretation of the Buddhist teachings. As a fledgling student of Zen, I can’t say enough how disappointed I was that I haven’t been back since.

Mo's Tale - The Date

(Inspired by the case number assigned to Lacambra vs Shea Properties et al – 07CC10666 – the mark of the devil).

It was late one evening as I was walking home when I was halted by a whispering call from the hedgerow – "PSSSSST! Come here!" I turned to the direction of the person calling me. Concealed by all the shrubbery and wearing face paint with matching camouflage was the lady I met at the bus stop - Mo’s mother.

“Be quiet and listen to me. Meet me here at midnight in three days”, she said as she handed me a map with a big red X to mark the spot. “You must come alone and be sure to wear black clothes. There is no time to explain except to say my son is going out on a date with the two ugly sisters of Cinderella. Just be there”, she commanded. Then, with the surprising dexterity of a gymnast she tumbled over the hedgerow, crawled and disappeared into the dark night.

Three days came by in a flash. My mind had been the subject of the most horrendous kind of mental contortions. To begin with, I had no idea what I was getting into and had been worried about the unlawful quality of the adventure.

The day started off windy and raining and it continued through the night. There was a sinister quality to that evening, however. All the lights in the city were out. There was an electrical blackout in effect. The rain was warm and thunderous lightning illuminated the skies over the horizon. Judging by the increasing loudness, I could tell that the thunderstorm was coming in our direction.

“Where is she?”, I kept asking myself, looking side to side in unison with the sounds of crickets. With a great sense of timing, seemingly calibrated to the lightning, she appeared in front of me as the lightning flashed. It was the proverbial now you don’t see her, now you do routine. Decked in a full frogman outfit reminiscent of the old school UDT Teams that cleared mines for landing troops, she was wearing a full wet-suit and the round goggle that was the rage during WWII. She had her fins attached to her hips and the full weight of the scuba tanks still on her back. “What’s with the Navy Seal regalia?", I questioned. “You’ll see soon enough”, she said.

“Be quiet and follow me. I will brief you on the situation as we hump to our target location. Now, are you alone? Did anyone follow you?”, she asked. To which I replied “No”. “Good”, she said. Then she went on with her briefing. “These two sisters are so ugly my son can only take them out at night. Preferably, when there is citywide blackout. Every time he wants to take the sisters out he would sabotage the power grid by knocking out a transformer. Since they could not go to the beach, again on the account that they are so ugly, they go on clandestine swimming excursions during a storm when no one can see them”.

It took another few minutes before we got to the edge of a swimming pool and we immediately hid between clusters of shrubbery. Looking at her military style watch, she told me that they should be entering our view in the next few minutes.

There was a long period of quiet until - “Bingo!, there they are", she said. I observed three silhouettes walking in the direction of the pool. My heart started pumping like it was coming out of my chest making me close to passing out.

There was a huge flash in the sky. Then, a long sustained string of lightning bright enough to let me observe the most bewildering sight in recent memory: All three were standing with their toes on the very edge of the pool. All were wearing black bathing suits – him a tight Speedo and the ladies wearing two-piece suits that were about a few sizes too small. They had positioned themselves right beside each other as if to begin a synchronized swimming routine. Then, there was a loud boom and flash that seared the image in my mind forever. With their arms outstretched and sporting bulging bellies, they had replicated what I have come to know as the mark of the devil – the numbers 666. As this happened, a warm gust of wind enveloped the area. Leaves, dust and pieces of trash swirled about as if to commemorate the sinister coming.

Then, with a yelp from Mo, they all jumped into the water in unison. A few seconds elapsed until loud exchanges of screams were all we heard – screams of pain and the disturbing vocal expressions of horror. It was like the moment when you were a child and a doctor is about to stick a needle in your butt. Magnify that by the power of three bloody and screaming adults.

A multiple flash of lightning had enough wattage to illuminate the pool to once again reveal the carnage - three adults and three bloody heads – the result of them diving into the shallow end of the pool. It turns out that under the shroud of darkness and equipped with tools from the venerable Underwater Demolition Teams, Mo’s Mom had switched the depth tiles at each side of the pool. When the three bloody gore of Mo and his dates thought that they had jumped into the deep end of the pool, they had actually jumped head first into the shallow end.

Mo’s Mom had gotten her son once again. But more importantly Mo hadn’t the notion that his own mother had done it to him – the result of a well-executed operation protected by the doctrine of plausible deniability.

And so there she sat, wedged between the shrubs that by now where quivering along to her rapturous laughter and glee. She turned to me and said, “these three kids do not know what they have gotten themselves into. I will break their mind”.

Her assessment was very close. Their heads were already in need of medical attention.

A band called Sway ...

I’m back in Aliso Viejo. If it weren’t for a song I heard on the radio, I would have completely forgotten an invitation that was extended to me by Gina, the lead singer for the band called Sway. They are having a CD Release Party this evening at the Neighborhood Cup in AV. There is no excusing but all the things swirling in my head competing for mindshare has made me somewhat absent minded.

Sway was the first Country Band that I ever saw perform live. They had so much fun on stage – their playfulness so infectious that I became an instant fan. Plus, I realized that country music has changed - it has become a little more mainstream. Gina is joined by Perry on guitar (a Brit who can sing Country), Laurens on bass and Trevor on drums.

I wish them the best and hope that success follows them wherever they go.

Newport Beach Public Library

Public Library

Newport Beach, CA

It's a few minutes past 7PM and I've just arrived at the Newport Beach Library. This will be my office for the next few days as I work through all the "Opposition Responses" and "Motions" that I will be filing next week. Unlike the Aliso Viejo Library, this library has a considerable collection of law books and related materials. Off course, it is not as complete as a full fledged law library but they have the West's Annotated Series, which because of its insightful notes and commentaries has since become my publication of choice for legal research. I'll be looking for a place to park for the night rather soon. I already feel tired and sleepy as I write this, the product of a sleepless night. Since this is not my usual stomping ground, I'll have to drive around a little bit to find the perfect spot - one that I hope has very little ambient light and noise. I've camped here a couple of times before but have yet to find a regular spot. One thing I can say about this library: Every time I do my work here, my session always turns out to be very productive. 

There is Hell to Pay ...

What a day! I finally got around to listing all the many things I have to do on all the lawsuits and was astonished by the volume of work that I have to get done. And that’s just to keep up with the workload. A relaxing interlude is not in the offing at the moment. But just as well, it's a world class education I am getting.

I missed a CMC Hearing on Lacambra vs Glass et al recently because of a flu I contracted that kept me bedridden - a word that is wholly imprecise since I haven't slept in a bed in months. Living in a car without the proper weather insulation and heating system will do that to you. The downside to that was I once again incited the anger of Judge Banks. But rightly so, judges should have a great disdain for attorneys who miss hearings. For one it slows down the process and increases the expense for all the parties. And second, it shows contempt for the judicial process. Judges recognize the fact that most attorneys usually practice within a firm and can call upon a colleague to stand in for them in case of an emergency. Unfortunately for me, I don’t belong to a law firm and don’t have a colleague to appear on my behalf. One should expect that a situation like this would have consequences. Indeed, it does.

A letter I received from the court has ordered me to appear. Formally, the proceeding is called “Order to Show Cause” and the hearing is scheduled for the 18th of July. In the interim, I am required to deposit with the court clerk the amount of $750 by the 14th. For anyone with a litigation budget like mine, that creates a huge challenge. I’ll have to wheel and deal on the money and hope that my explanation is acceptable. The consequences can be severe amounting to either losing that money or my case being thrown out completely, or both. That is not a good thing and there is only one thing left for me to do – I have got to ESCALATE in the most severe way.

This week I am preparing a number of motions to try to push this issue to an early and equitable conclusion. My approach has been lax on this particular case because it involves family. By contrast, the two other cases I have filed around the same time have passed through pleadings and already have trial dates. Clearly, the intensity level on this case was not as thunderous as the others. But it will be no more. In the coming weeks, there will be two operative, if not, concussive words – SALVO and INCOMING.

Fair Warning: They had better put on their helmets because there is hell to pay!

Rich & Nina (14th June 2008)

I was on my way back from my usual walk that afternoon reflecting on the current events when I came upon a completely unexpected sight. The street had a slight downhill grade and I was walking a little faster than my usual pace. My thoughts had wondered from the state of the economy to the subject of dinner and the heady choices available - Macdonald’s or Burger King? Chinese or Japanese? Subway or Quizno’s? Taco Bell or Dell Taco? Coke or Pepsi? Tea or Coffee?

Contemplating the differences in gastronomic experiences had my mind preoccupied until I turned the corner and saw a man dressed in a brown matching hood and cover-all slowly traversing on his legs and arms, crawling – southward. It was rather unsettling as I presumed that he had been crawling for the entire length of the very long street – long enough to make his knees bleed. I bent down to offer the man assistance until I realized the man in the costume was actually Rich.

“Rich, what the hell are you doing, man?”, I queried. “Is there a religious holiday today that I am not aware of? Are you performing some sort of penitence to atone for your sins?” Somewhat irritated, he replied. “I know I have committed many sins but atoning for it I am not. I am miserable because I love Nina deeply and I can’t seem to express it to her in the right way. Every time I get a chance to say something, I get nervous and develop the worse case of cottonmouth. It’s so bad I am afraid to open my mouth because it looks like a washer with an entire box of detergent thrown in it, like a high school prank. My love for her is not a prank!” 

“I think I know how you feel, but what’s with the two cigarettes on your lips? I asked. Looking annoyed, he replied. “Are you blind, man? Can’t you see? These are not cigarettes; these are tusks! I am a miserable Walrus and I am on my way to the ocean to drown myself.”

All of a sudden there was a screeching sound in my head forcing my mind to stop and process what it had just heard. There were also symphonic voices of angels sustaining a high note and everything around me had crept to slow motion. I had just entered, it seemed, a surreal world only conjured up by the imaginative mind of a troubled child.

And so I tried to console him. “In every woman’s heart, there is a fire”, I said. “You just need to find it”. He looked up and asked, “Do you mean, I have a chance to share my life with her?” Off, course, I replied. Are you sure?, he said. Yeah, I’m certain”, I encouraged him.

Then, with the explosiveness of a sprinter coming out of the starting blocks, he stood up and shouted in elation – “YEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHH!” and with the fluid motion of an NBA guard called from the bench for a last minute substitution, he snaps off his brown cover-all. “I’m getting rid of this brown suit. This is not my color type. It makes me look older”, he exclaims. In one quick flash, he revealed a matching white suit and trouser ensemble ala John Travolta in “Saturday Night Fever”.

From his back pocket he produced a small radio and turned up the volume to reveal the classic Bee Gees disco tune in the ‘70s – “Staying Alive”. He shouted. “I am no longer going to kill myself by drowning. I am “Staying Alive!” lip-synching to the ‘70s anthem and pointing his finger up to the sky and down to his shoes. Speaking over the music, he looked at me and asked, “Did you hear that, man? – For Nina, I am Staying Alive!”

(TO BE CONTINUED)

Lose your home. Lose your Business.

It's Friday the 13^th and I have great news to share. I finally got a trial date for Lacambra vs. Shea Properties et al. The court scheduled the 4-5 day trial for November 10^th, 2008. Now, the work really begins. I have a tremendous disadvantage in terms of discovering facts. My meager litigation budget will prevent me from conducting depositions on people and so I have to simplify things and seek out facts by alternative means. That’s probably a good thing; it’ll make me smarter.

Many Entrepreneurs that I have spoken to say that the best time to build an organization is during lean times. It creates a culture of frugality and develops a miser attitude that brings projects in faster, smarter and cheaper. Given my limitations, this will be a welcome challenge to the artist that resides within me. Mark Geragos once said “… litigation is the ultimate creative arts.” I tend to agree with him in so far as it requires a command of many skills and a deep understanding of human behavior. During trial, a litigator has to connect with a jury – a group of people that he or she has never met – and put in their hands the fate of the client. As an advocate, you are like an artist painting an image of your client – one that is credible and likeable to the jurors. In that respect, this case will give me one of two outcomes. It will either make me or I’ll end up doing something else. In any event, I hope to show my Spartan best.

But that is not to say that my excitement is easy to contain; On the contrary. The Shea Case has enormous implications when you consider that more and more people are now opting to work out of their homes. In the future I’d like to advocate for new laws that prevent landlords from easily evicting tenants who operate businesses out of their homes. By design, the “Unlawful Detainer Action” that landlords use to evict tenants has a fast track feature that gives a respondent only 5 days to respond. A normal lawsuit, on the other hand, gives the respondent 30 days to reply. If you are operating a business out of your home, as I was, and you get evicted, you will need time to relocate properly to continue your business. Logistically speaking, there are office equipment and desks involved when this happens. These are things that cannot be easily moved into a small room and in short notice. I am looking at possible solutions to this and will be writing more about it on my blog.

Hair Dryer Lady (Part 2 of 2)

(CONTINUED FROM PART 1)

By early evening, we were in Dana Point sitting in the car at the parking lot of the Marina Hotel. She was promised a room that Sunday but I wagered that if the motel had a room unsold that evening, they were likely to let her stay earlier. It was Saturday, the peak of the motel business and when she finally got a chance to talk to the manager, she was informed that there was no vacancy that evening.

There are ordinances in certain cities that prohibit sleeping in a car. I wasn’t sure whether Dana Point had one so I was quite apprehensive parking. Again, the evening started with the usual homeless menu of canned goods. The homeless usually prefer this as it is easier to travel with and requires no preparation. It takes a little getting used to because the absence of a stove means that the soup will not be hot. I’ve discovered by trial and error which ones are agreeable with my stomach – usually the ones that do not have much fat. A can of beef stew, for instance, will create havoc on your stomach if you consume it cold because the fat (lard) will be hard to digest.

We drove down a street lined with expensive houses that had ocean views and parked in front of two homes built beside each other inspired by Tuscan architecture. I can’t help but think how far that trek might be for me – from homeless to an ocean view Tuscan home. No matter, the speakers were booming to a thumping dancing beat. Power 106 and Hip-Hop provided the sound track for the house admiring moment. It turns out that she is a Hip-Hop dancer with deep roots to the L.A. club-scene.

When it finally got dark, we found the perfect spot to camp for the night. I was feeling much better and had a chance to talk with her into the late hour. She has a 12-year-old son who is staying with his father. She had lost her license because of missing child support payments. And like many, she was a mortgage professional taking a painful ride on a wave that became known as the “Financial Tsunami”.

The next day came in a flash and we found ourselves back at the Marina Hotel after doing our morning constitution and changing from our sleeping cloths at a Taco Bell close by. A police officer on a bike came to our car and upon seeing the blankets in the back informed us of laws against sleeping in the motel parking lot. He treated us to what I thought were standardized questions designed to ruffle unwitting Hobos into criminal confessions. “Are you on parole?, Did you sleep here in the parking lot?, Do you have anything in your car that I should know about?” The questions lasted a few seconds and off he went to keep the peace in the beautiful city of Dana Point.

We were instructed by the hotel manager to return at 10:30 AM when a room was to be available for her. At the appointed hour, she was handed a key for Room 11 which she will use, presumably, until the weekend rolls around and once again the motel will be packed full of tourists.

We parted company with a hug – a celebration of having negotiated the last few days safely. The streets could be an unforgiving place for the uninitiated. Although, I have recently met people who’ve been homeless for years, the streets have the forceful tendency of aging a person prematurely. You’ll find that in their muted smiles; the distant gaze; the resignation and the aversion for crowds. A homeless person has an aura of desperation and of daily struggle for self-respect and that proverbial road that will put them back in the right direction – towards a dream that was rudely interrupted. Many find it and yet many continue on daily searching for it hoping that time will not run out. Time is always the last one standing and the one that keeps the final score.

Hair Dryer Lady (Part 1 of 2)

Remember the 30-something homeless lady with a hair dryer I met at the Aliso Viejo Library? Well, as things turned out, I had a chance to get to know her better. After a night in a motel room provided to her by Saint Edwards Church, she found herself without a place the next day. Churches and like organizations have limited funds and could usually only give vouchers one evening at a time. That was Thursday the 5th of June. It was late in the afternoon of the 6th when I met up with her back at the AV Library. I had missed a CMC Meeting because I’ve been fighting what felt like a flu for the last few days. It was a pleasant surprise to see her back at the AV Library but disconcerting to the extent that she didn’t have a place to stay for the night. The Bus 187 only runs the route close to the library during peak hours and by that time, the last bus had already gone. It didn’t take very much for me to decide to invite her to sleep in my car. And so our two day adventure started.

Friday evening, we camped by a building that was for sale. I’ve been parking there for several weeks now, a preference I developed because of the peace and quiet. Moreover, because the property is for sale, all the lights in the parking lot are turned off making for easier zzzzzz’s. We parked early as I have, at that point, been feeling under the weather. Dinner was the usual fare of room temperature canned good soup (Progresso). It was not gourmet by any means, but it did the job of filling the belly. I was out like a lamp quite early and woke up to the sounds of bird songs the next morning. Right in front of the parking space that I usually occupy is a pine tree with a large branch that was slightly parallel to the ground. On it is a knot, which this little bird usually stands on every morning between 6 to 7 AM. Sometimes he arrives early and sometimes a little late. Whenever he does, he regales his audience with melodious tunes as he sings to his heart’s content – a performance that my friend had fortunately witnessed that morning. It has been my favorite parking spot precisely for that reason.

We spent most of the day at the AV Library. She spent most of the day emailing her resume to prospective employers and all the computer work. I was worn down because of the flu like symptoms that I was fighting and was quite lethargic. The day flew by and by the afternoon I decided that it was probably not a good idea for her to stay in the car that evening. At that point my cold had morphed into the coughing variety. Earlier in the day, she told me that the owner of the motel was willing to let her stay a few more nights. I told her it was probably better to try to get her back to the motel if she were to avoid my cold.

My gas gauge was already in the red and judging by the mileage I’ve been getting from the V6 engine, I knew that there wasn’t enough to get me back from the trip. We were both down to a few dollars and without a word she simply started walking around the parking lot asking people – strangers – for gas money. I’ve never seen anything like that.  In no time she not only had enough gas for me to drop her off and return but she had also collected enough money to pay for minutes on her pay-as-you-go phone.

(TO BE CONTINUED)

Yestradamus 060708

BLUE BLUE MY GIRL IS BLUE

BLUE IS HER SHORTS AND POLO SHIRT TOO

FLESH FLESH MY GIRL IS FLESH

SOMEBODY TOOK AWAY HER BLUE DRESS

Robert’s Note:

For context, we need to let our readers know that this particular quatrain was not the product of Yestradamus’ writings. He was sighted at an Alpha Omega Fraternity House singing these words, doing so completely smashed holding a bottle of Jack Daniels Whiskey and blowing smoke rings with pledges. Because of the construction of the words, which resembled a quatrain, it was taken by our crack team of intelligence analysts to be the real thing. After extensive research at the lab, it was determined that the words were lyrics written by a band called Tito, Vic and Joey from Manila.

Analysis:

We took the significance of the Alpha Omega Greek letters seriously and started from there as the basis for our inquiry. We plugged it into our super computer and found the most plausible combinations to mean the “beginning and the end.” We then took the beginning and the end of the quatrain and that gave us the words blue and dress – or simply blue dress. By the process of deduction, we determined that the woman cannot (emphasized) be a lady from New York City because if she were, she’d be wearing black and we are looking for someone wearing blue.

From that point, our investigation took us to California where our team is working diligently to crack the quatrain for the benefit of our readers. As of now, the teams haven’t reported back their findings, despite being out there for 14 days. But we are confident based on our actionable intelligence that the lady will be in California. We believe her name is BABALOO – after the linguistic analysis of the word blue, which was repeated 5 times in the quatrain. One of our preeminent linguistic experts spent an inordinate amount of time repeating the words BLUE in his bathroom and after a while he started stuttering and that was how he came up with BABALOO.

To investigate visual inflections, he wrote down the word BABALOO on his bathroom wall with ink reactive to black light and he swore that he saw a pair of eyes looking at him inside the bathroom. He immediately turned off the light and headed back to the office. He hasn’t been back home since! In a manner of speaking, he’s homeless.

Analyst 147X

We are not poor, just broke ..

Today was an interesting day, to say the least. I just got back from my lunch and noticed a 30-something lady walk into the entrance of the Aliso Viejo Library. She caught my attention because of two things. First, I could hardly see her face, as she was head down obviously wallowing in misery. Her posture was one of dejection and resignation. Second, she was clutching a somewhat see-thru grocery bag full of clothes and a hair dryer. My curiosity was piqued that I observed her just a few feet away pretending that I was reading some materials on a table. I waited a few minutes in silence watching her. She stood quietly looking down at the floor – looking past it. I finally asked her, “Is there anything I can do for you? You look like you’re in trouble”. She then looked up and said, “I lost everything”. Those words carry with it such force for those who've experienced it that I knew exactly what she was feeling and opened up to her. “I’m homeless, too” I said, making the assumption she was preoccupied with finding a place to sleep for the night - an interesting situation magnified by the fact that it was drizzling outside.

We then went into short discourse about our life complications, a common denominator that only people in our situation can comprehend. “I’m trying to get to Dana Point so I can have a place to sleep for the night”, she said. I attempted to tell her about the bus route that she could take until she told me that she had to be there at 3:00PM. I didn’t have my watch on so I craned my neck to find the wall clock in the library, which said 2:05PM. If she took the bus, she wasn’t going to make it. “My gas needle is in the red and I only have about $10.00, otherwise I would drive you there". I said to her. "I could give you a couple of dollars", she replied. I calculated in my head how much it will take to get me there and back and decided that a couple of bucks will fall short. Finally, she said she can give me $10.00 and so off we went.

Our stories converge at the most basic of all levels. We both used to derive our income from the mortgage industry. Like many of the professionals in our field who invested many years in developing the skills and knowledge to be successful, she found her income dwindle to virtually nothing when the capital markets dried up. We didn't have a chance to talk at length but she struck me as someone who is smart but got blind-sided by the financial tsunami that has since rearranged everything about the mortgage industry.

In no time, she had my car gassed up and we were on our way to Saint Edward’s Church - notable for the “pedophile priest story”. I had been there a couple of weeks ago, right after I got my food stamps and had welcomed the opportunity to once again see the “three wonderful ladies” who every Wednesdays welcome the struggling masses like her and I and try their best to bring cheer to those who come through their doors.

She had called earlier and was promised a voucher to a local motel room. After a brief interview, she was handed a check written in the name of the establishment. Before leaving, we both took some canned goods that were available only on Wednesdays. They call this the “Open Pantry” which literally means a pantry full of foodstuff. It had anything from baby formula to canned goods of every kind.

After saying our good-byes to the “ladies” we were off to the Marina Motel where I dropped her off. We promised to stay in touch and even agreed to find the first opportunity to do business together, perhaps fund a deal together. I was told many times by people who’ve helped me out to “pass it along” – vernacular which means to help someone in the future. If that was all it took to pay into the piggy bank of the broke, that was easy!

The thing to remember is that we are not poor, just broke!

Plundering Pirates ...

Lacambra vs. Public Storage is now on docket at the Central Justice Center in Santa Ana. It took about two days for me to do the preliminary research and draft the complaint. Because I only have until the 10^th of June to stop the “Lien Sale” of my properties in storage, I left out a lot of details. It will be added on to the Amended Complaint. The moment the opposing counsel sees that I am representing myself, they’re certain to file a Demurrer or a Motion to Strike or even both to try to set the tone and exert their superiority. 

I asked the Sheriff’s Department to serve the Complaint and Summons. To comply to the court rules, I also had to attach an “ADR Packet” (Alternative Dispute Resolution). This is very important, because if it wasn’t included, the file clerk will not accept my Proof of Service. Every time you send the opposition any papers that you file in court, you have to show the court that you mailed it. Hence, the Proof of Service; it proves that you actually sent a copy to the opposition.

After I filed the case with the court, I immediately mailed an “Opposition to the Lien Sale” by Certified Mail. By law, they had to send me a fill in the blank form declaring my opposition to the sale. This should automatically cause them to file an action so they can get an order from the court allowing them to sell my property. As soon as I get this notice, and it will be a case against me, I will file a “Motion for Consolidation” so both cases can be heard by the same judge.

Here’s how I opened this particular case:

PRELIMINARY STATEMENT

To some renters, a public-storage facility is a “Treasure Chest” of priceless personal possessions. Within four walls and protected from others only by lock and key are some of the most precious belongings a person owns – a memory frozen in time by pictures; an award for something proudly achieved; mementos and trinkets that can lighten the heart and papers that can never be replaced.  To deceive a public into storing valuables in their premises and swindling them into losing their possessions for financial gain is as abominable as the plundering “Pirates” of the past who were erased from the seven seas by the chasing ships of civilized jurisprudence.    

Trial Date Set ...

I finally got a “Notice of Trial” for Lacambra vs. First Team Realty et al. The Trial has been set for November 17, 2008. I didn’t really need that much time to prepare because my case is what lawyers refer to as a ”Prima Facie Case” (correctly pronounced Preema Fa-che), a Latin phrase meaning “at first look” or in simple-speak it means it’s “an open and shut case”. In other words, the facts are so obvious and plain that a case can be proven with ease. One example is a Tenancy-Landlord dispute where the Plaintiff needs to show the existence of a tenancy relationship. One document that can prove a prima facie case is the signed rental agreement.

From here on out, producing the actual exhibits for trial will be my priority for this case. I am actually thinking of going completely digital on this. I can see how effective such an approach can be in terms of telling a story to a jury. Whenever I go to court I always see attorneys lugging boxes and boxes and a multitude of illustration paper to present their case in court. It’s easy to tell those who have a trial date apart from those who just have a regular hearing.

My Apple G4 12-inch laptop is the most amazing productivity tool that I have ever had. It’s my baby. In terms of technology life span, my G4 is considered a dinosaur because it is already 4 years old. But it still keeps on doing what it does really well and I am very very happy with it.

Starting next week, I’ll begin experimenting on methods and processes so I can digitize my “practice”. That’s a funny word for me to use because all my life I’ve considered myself an Entrepreneur. For a long time I existed on the opposite side of the spectrum, away from the convoluted world of a legal professional. But early on I told myself that –“I don’t want a job. I don’t even want a career. What I really want is a way of life”. It seems obvious to me now that this life is choosing me. At any given moment it has the unique capacity of handing my ass to me - resoundingly. You’ve got to love it ….