That night as I drove home, I was one happy camper. Per my contract on K-9, Siegel & Myers would receive a bonus on a sequel. My take: $150K. Talk about money for nothing! Cut to some months later when I’m informed that I will not be receiving said bonus. Why? Because when the original K-9 deal was made, our lawyer neglected to add four little words to the contract re sequels: “Or any other format.”
The Huffington Post highlights some of the key findings in the report.
I would love to tell you that, coming upon a grownup raping a child, in the act, I would grab the nearest heavy object and brandish it and yell at the grownup to get away, and stuff the child into some clothing and drive him to the nearest police precinct. I would love to tell you that; we would all love to tell ourselves that. Everyone’s cape flutters attractively in the breeze of the subjunctive.
What probably would happen instead is that I would back out of the room in horror. Flee, in fact, on tiptoe, to somewhere small and dark, to process the upside-down wrong thing I’d seen.
Andrew Cohen, writing about what Troy Davis’ execution this evening represents (via Heather):
Georgia says that it has given Davis more due process than any single man would have a right to expect. Up the state appellate ladder and down again. Up to the Supreme Court and back. Hearing upon hearing. Brief upon brief. At some point, Georgia says, there has to be finality in capital cases. At some point, the justice system has to accept the work of judges and juries and impose the sentence that was initially given. There is truth to all of this. And there is both rhyme and reason to many of the rules which govern appellate law and practice in capital cases. But those rules almost always place the state’s interest in finality ahead of the condemned’s interest in accuracy. “Enough is enough” is a great campaign slogan — but it’s hardly a worthy motto for a civilized nation’s death penalty scheme.