Last night Erik and I wheeled out the chalkboard (which is in rough shape by they way) from the mock-trial courtroom into room 3261 (affection[ately] known in the law school as the "judge's chambers"). It is the room where Salty Dog
and I used to study during finals of yesteryear. Erik did an adequate job of filling Salty's shoes—I think I'll keep him. We spent an entire hour mapping out the provisions that form the "heart" of the internal revenue code: Sections 61, 62, 63, 67, 68, and 151. (Or the engine, if you want to think of the code as a revenue-generating machine). When we finally got them mapped out in all their glorious detail we just sat back and looked in awe.
I could almost hear the sound of it humming along like a well-oiled machine. Well, OK, an oiled machine. Must be the way that scientists and doctors feel when they look at the human body.
Forgot to mention this earlier. New picture of the little man up here
. He's dressed to the nines.