Bring me my bow of burning gold, bring me my arrows of desire. And I’ll bring you the hide of Patricia McKeever, the internet Torquemada of Scottish Catholic gaydom. Ms McKeever, of Catholic Truth is, as reported in The Times yesterday , a one-person outing operation, determined to uncover closeted cassock-lifters, to drag them shrieking and naked from their metaphorical priests’ holes and thereby to cleanse the Church. Ms McKeever has restored me to myself, reminding me – at an age when I expend my passions carefully – of just what it is in the public sphere that makes me most angry. It’s the gap – the abyss – between the stated reason for the actions of the world’s McKeevers and their real (if hidden) motives that so appals. Why does Ms M send letters and small business answering service -mails to priests and seminarians whom she suspects of going to gay clubs? Why does she demand of an Edinburgh clergyman to know whether he is a homosexual? Ostensibly to “raise awareness of the problem . . . ultimately to ensure the safety of others in the Church. Not just the physical safety of children, important though that is, but also the spiritual safety of people and congregations entrusted to the care of a homosexual priest or bishop.” She is no relative, naturally, to the poison pen writer, or to the persecutors of imaginary backsliding converted Jews or secret Trotskyists. She doesn’t send her missives, of course, for the pleasure of it, for the excuse to think and talk dirty in the name of purity.

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Tomorrow I head down to Monterey for the TED conference. I look forward to TED all year. It is a fantastic chance to catch up with old friends, meet some really interesting new ones and exercise my brain and my imagination. But, as with TEDs of the past, I find myself stuck -- I am at a loss for what to pack. Not because the weather is unpredictable (although Monterey in March is a bit unpredictable). Rather, I find myself thinking, "What does one wear to meet Paul Simon?" "What does one wear to meet President Clinton?" "What does one wear to meet John Maeda?" Perhaps I'm the only one asking myself these questions, but I'm guessing not. It would be hard to think that how one dresses is irrelevant at a conference with "design" in its name. The only guidance the TED organization gives you is this -- "Dress code, as ever, is casual." OK, so I can rule out my tuxedo. But that leaves a whole lot of other possible outfits. If I were to meet with Larry Lessig, I would likely dress differently than if I were to meet with Will Wright. If I were to meet with EO Wilson, I would likely dress differently than if I were to meet with Maira Kalman. If I were to meet with Richard Branson, I would likely dress differently than if I were to meet power generator ith Tracy Chapman. So you can see my conundrum. What is appropriate dress for the TED conference? One thing is for certain. The answer to this question appears to be different for pretty much every TEDster.

Tomorrow I head down to Monterey for the TED conference. I look forward to TED all year. mobile micropayments t is a fantastic chance to catch up with old friends, meet some really interesting new ones and exercise my brain and my imagination. But, as with TEDs of the past, I find myself stuck -- I am at a loss for what to pack. Not because the weather is unpredictable (although Monterey in March is a bit unpredictable). Rather, I find myself thinking, "What does one wear to meet Paul Simon?" "What does one wear to meet President Clinton?" "What does one wear to meet John Maeda?" Perhaps I'm the only one asking myself these questions, but I'm guessing not. It would be hard to think that how one dresses is irrelevant at a conference with "design" in its name. The only guidance the TED organization gives you is this -- "Dress code, as ever, is casual." OK, so I can rule out my tuxedo. But that leaves a whole lot of other possible outfits. If I were to meet with Larry Lessig, I would likely dress differently than if I were to meet with Will Wright. If I were to meet with EO Wilson, I would likely dress differently than if I were to meet with Maira Kalman. If I were to meet with Richard Branson, I would likely dress differently than if I were to meet with Tracy Chapman. So you can see my conundrum. What is appropriate dress for the TED conference? One thing is for certain. The answer to this question appears to be different for pretty much every TEDster.

Connecticut Law Tribune - June 8, 2007 (This column comes on the heels of the recent Second Circuit Decision regarding pro bono fees, as a I promised.) It's been a year since I read an Illinois Supreme Court ruling regarding mandatory pro bono reporting and I'm still feeling claustrophobic as the legal universe we are permitted to function in gets smaller and smaller. That state's new rule, celebrating it's one year anniversary this month, requires lawyers to "annually report their pro-bono activities, including hours worked and any money contributed to pro-bono efforts." The rationale behind the rule is that, by having to report what they do (or don't do) by way of pro bono work or financial gifts to recognized legal aid organizations, lawyers will somehow be shamed into actually doing some, or do more than they're already doing. It doesn't take a genius to see where this is really going. Although structured as simply a confidential reporting program for the purpose of peer to peer networking ccruing an aggregate total of pro bono hours, lawyers who fail to report their numbers to Illinois authorities face possible suspension of their law licenses. With this framework in place, if actual pro bono hours do not increase in a voluntary fashion, is it really a stretch to see pro bono work being mandated in order to continue practicing in the state of Illinois? (Note: Illinois is home to the American Bar Association.

Nanocomposite research yields strong and stretchy fibers : "Lycra-like materials were inspired by protecting social security pider silk." (Via Nanowerk News .)

Connecticut Law Tribune - June 8, 2007 (This column comes on the heels of the recent Second Circuit Decision regarding pro bono fees, as a I promised.) It's been a year since I read an Illinois Supreme Court ruling regarding mandatory group trip ro bono reporting and I'm still feeling claustrophobic as the legal universe we are permitted to function in gets smaller and smaller. That state's new rule, celebrating it's one year anniversary this month, requires lawyers to "annually report their pro-bono activities, including hours worked and any money contributed to pro-bono efforts." The rationale behind the rule is that, by having to report what they do (or don't do) by way of pro bono work or financial gifts to recognized legal aid organizations, lawyers will somehow be shamed into actually doing some, or do more than they're already doing. It doesn't take a genius to see where this is really going. Although structured as simply a confidential reporting program for the purpose of accruing an aggregate total of pro bono hours, lawyers who fail to report their numbers to Illinois authorities face possible suspension of their law licenses. With this framework in place, if actual pro bono hours do not increase in a voluntary fashion, is it really a stretch to see pro bono work being mandated in order to continue practicing in the state of Illinois? (Note: Illinois is home to the American Bar Association.