Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO: LAW SCHOOL STUDENT OR CULT MEMBER?
Nobody can describe a fool to the life without much patient self-reflection.
--Frank M. Colby
The worst deluded are the self-deluded.
--C.N. Bovee
Facts that are not frankly faced have a habit of stabbing us in the back.
--Harold Bowden
And, after all, what is a lie? Tis but
The truth in masquerade.
--Lord Byron

As the Publishing Editor of the Davis Law School's Broken Law Journal, Jake regularly wrote and contributed articles to the publication. The Broken Law Journal was Davis Law School's internally-published news source. Basically, law school students were responsible for writing articles, editing articles, and publishing the final product, generally distributed at the end of the month. Every month of the law school year, except for December, January, and May for obvious reasons. Reasons like law school finals and the blessed period of relative freedom called Winter Break (the politically correct and genrally accepted term for the lengthy vacation period).
In general, Jake's articles tended to go on the humorous and sarcastic side. During his second year of law school, he began to make fun of the law school experience. With scathing results. Students loved his articles as they were the only articles that were read (supposedly). Many students walked up to him and commented, "That was a hilarious article. And it was so true." Professors would tell him how they enjoyed his articles, but only the ones that were more academic in nature. His Tax Guide for the Criminally Inclined was a hit with the tax professors, as the Federal Tax Code was not a heavily read topic. As one self-described tax geek (an anonymous professor) said, "It's not everyday when someone makes tax an interesting topic. I had lots of fun reading it."
Jake had no problem with writing articles for the Broken Law Journal. Every month, article ideas came rolling out from his mind. His fingers went flying across the keyboard. He wished he could type faster than his average 73 words per minute (closer to 90 words per minute on a good day). Sometimes, Jake wished he could type as fast as the he thought. If that was possible, he could type out a twenty page research paper in two or three hours. Once his mind started to roll, it was hard to stop.
But today, for the first issue of the year, Jake couldn't think of anything. An absolute blank. He had the terribly cliched and proverbial writer's block. It was as if he had written about everything that could be written. After all, in previous articles, Jake had written articles mocking intelligent design, dumb criminals and even dumber laws, taxes, British barrister wigs, law school funding, and much more. Once you've managed to poke fun at all of these topics, it is very hard to outdo yourself by choosing and writing about an ever more outlandish topic.

Jake thought about this question before Federal Income Taxation. The best spot for thinking, Jake found out it his first year at Davis Law School, was outside in the outdoor patio-like area. For some reason, the combination of metal benches, maple trees, neatly-trimmed shrubs, and the ever-present scent of menthol cigarettes made for an effective mental block killer. Each time Jake went outside, whatever mental blocks he had seemed to disappear. It was quite strange. Maybe it was the relatively fresh air (fresh if it was without the cigarette smoke). Maybe it was the sound of chirping birds and industrious squirrels scampering about. Maybe it was the sound of eardrum rattling, bass-pounding, stereo systems driving by. Whatever it was, Jake's mind was clearer and just a little bit quicker than normal.
Outside, he found Professor Pearson smoking his post-Evidence cigarette, well, possibly his second or third cigarette once you factored in that Professor Pearson had a fiendish nicotine addiction. That and his fond love for coffee. Plain, black coffee without sugar or the powdered stuff called non-dairy creamer that was supposed to be a substitute for cream. No wonder why it was called "non-dairy creamer" as it was made from unknown fat and chemicals with cryptic, unpronouncable names.
"Hey, Pearson. How are you doing?"
"Well good morning, Mr. Lau. And how are you doing today?"
"Not too bad. As much as you can expect. And you?"
"Well, I'm still alive. The sun is out. I might go out in my boat and soak up some sun."
"Out on the lake? But it's only Wednesday."
"So? I've got tenure. They can't kick me out. If they do, I'm going to the Bahamas and become a beach bum. Sleep all day and drink all night."
"Good for you."
Jake had many conversations with Professor Pearson. A theme that constantly came up in their conversations revolved around the Caribbean islands. Professor Pearson, had it not been for that minor interruption called law school, would have been a bartender in the Bahamas or one of those sunny locales mentioned in "Kokomo" by The Beach Boys.
"What brings you out here this morning? Certainly not talk to me."
"I've got a problem. I need to come up with an article idea and well, I can't come up with one."
"Ah, that is a problem that I can't solve."
"I see." Time to change the conversation. "So, how is Evidence going? Anybody have the urge to do some acting in them?"
"It's too early in the semester to tell." Professor Pearson paused for a moment. "But I'm guessing that there is a lack of enthusiasm for acting. Unlike your group. Ah, now there were people with the thespian touch in them."
"Yes, yes there was. Remember the girl who could scream? Turns out she sings opera."
"Really?" The classic Pearson eyebrow raise. Very Spock-like in nature, but with a hint of professional wrestling melodramatic added in. "I thought there was a hint of opera training in her scream."
"I heard her perform at the Davis Law Talent Show. It was an aria from one of Wagner's operas. One of his Ring operas. Absolutely amazing. She definitely can hit the high notes. I think she won."
"Ah." As if it explained everything. He pointed at some 1Ls talking about being stressed out over law school. Already preparing outlines and subjecting themselves to terrible schedules. "Whatever happened to relaxation? Everything in moderation."
"It's like the students every year become more and more...well...dull. All alike in their pursuit in being academic. No room for having a little fun."
"Yes indeed. You can't take law school too seriously. Just like zombies."
"Zombies...good one Pearson. I guess they took the orientation speeches too seriously. Like they were being indoctrinated or something. Like law school was a cult...like a cult. I've got it!"
"Got what?"
"My article idea. Thanks, Pearson."
"Glad to help."

After sitting down at one of the tables by the SBA office, Jake started to do some research. Time to go on the Internet to get some information. One cannot write a humorous article without facts to base the article on. All satire, all humor in some way, is based upon reality, but it is a skewed vision looked through a warped lens.
It didn't take long to find some excellent research about cults and the methods of mind control they used to get their recruits. Jake realized that one could easily claim that any organization from the military to the Boy Scouts used these same techniques in some manner. Every organization could be considered a cult, or cult-like in nature. While reading a short summary of cult mind control techniques (currently called coercive persuasion techniques, coercive psychological systems or coercive influence by experts) written by Doctor Margaret Singer, Jake saw some eerie similarities between law school and cults.
One of the more common techniques used by cults, quoting from the article, was "Creat[ing] a sense of powerlessness by subjecting the person to intense and frequent actions and situations which undermine the person's confidence in himself and his judgment." Jake was reminded of many incidents, particularly in Legal Writing I, of how he was never sure of what the professor wanted. One day, it was "take this sentence out" and once he got his grade (Jake was sure it was randomly chosen by a computer program), it was "you should have left it in." Law school was just like that in every class. There obviously was some kind of right answer (or there would be no "law" in law school), but the law school professors, for some reason, failed to teach what was the law. Just like a cult.
The bad part? There was too much information to use. Given the format of the Broken Law Journal, a lengthy article was out of the question. Jake had to write a relatively informative yet concise article that managed to be funny. He racked his mind and came up with the following article:

Consider the following. Across the United States, there are thousands of people who a member of an elite cult. Graduates of the training school have loyal ties. As members of the cult, they have conversations filled with foreign sounding phrases and buzzwords that mean simple concepts. Large sums of money is spent on books. These books are filled with arcane knowledge. Time is spent listening to lectures and participating in group activities. They are a member of a cult. You might know someone who is a member. In fact, you are a member. Welcome to the cult called law school.
Law school can't be a cult. Impossible. Some of you wish you could leave. Some want the experience to end. It's got a hold on you and it won't let go. Read the following and reconsider.
The cult begins by choosing the right people, those who will best fit in their group, their cult. Remember the law school application process? Remember taking the LSAT on a Saturday morning? Remember filling out all of those applications, writing all of those essays, reading all of brochures just to get into a law school that fit your personality? In the end of this process, based upon all of this material, the law school chose future students. Everything is a highly calculated process designed to pick the best of the best. Just like a cult. Just like a cult. Repeat after me.
Your behavior has probably changed while in law school. Take a good look at what you eat on an average day. Not that healthy in all reality. Eating food from restaurants. Fast food. Frozen food. Snack food. Lots of alcohol. Nicotine and caffeine are dietary supplements. On a rare day, you might have enough time to actually make a meal in your apartment. You spend a lot of time at Davis Hall. Time in lectures. Time in the library. Time online. It now seems normal to spend all day and part of the night at Davis Hall. Before, it would have seemed crazy. Change some words and you've got a cult.
Informaiton control. You're probably thinking, "You're wrong. I've got access to the Internet and to the television in the informal commons! Newspapers! They don't control what I think." Ah, but how wrong you are. Have you ever noticed how the wireless network conveniently breaks down? Have you ever noticed how the TVs fail to work? Coincidence? I think not. Now, remember when the law school rankings fell and came close to making Davis Law School a school to avoid at all costs? What did they say? The magazine rankings are wrong. The formula was obviously biased and messed up.
Rankings aren’t everything. The people that graduate really matter. Read any of the alumni magazines or any of the material published by the law school. Alumni success stories. They have jobs in great firms…just like graduates from other law schools. They clerk for U.S Supreme Court justices…just like graduates from other law schools. Bad news does not exist. Scandal is impossible like the unicorn. If it does show up, it’s swept under the rug or given a good whitewash.
Thought control. It's everywhere in law school. You've had negative thoughts about law school. The books are expensive. The grades are too random thanks to the mandatory curve. The rooms are too hot or too cold. But there is TGIT and all of the social events filled with lots of beer and booze. Law school was fun. It was hell, but it all balances out with the social events and alcohol.
What about your classes? The right answer is the professor’s answer. There is no gray area, but only black and white. The law may seem wrong, irrational, harsh, but it is the law and you will learn it. Do you question it? Not when your grade depends on “understanding the law” and “understanding” means what the professor said. Free thinking in class is perfectly fine, but come finals, it’s not an option. If you get a bad grade, YOU did something wrong. You should have done this, done that, did this, etc. Think law school still isn’t a cult?
Emotional control. You're probably a mess by the time finals roll around. Why is that? Orientation. Those speeches they give. “To do well, you must study TWO hours for ever credit hour you take. Don’t disappoint us by failing. Make outlines early. Don’t disappoint yourself by failing. It would be bad if you failed. Do well and you get a good job.” As time goes on, it evolved to things like “successful students do this” or “law firms like this.” You constantly think about your grades because grades matter. A voice in your head repeats, “Think about what would happen if you did poorly. Nobody would like it if you failed.” Their basic message: “Failure is bad.” Their weapon of choice: FEAR. Nobody wants to be a “failure.” It looks bad. Combine this with a liberal dose of guilt and you’ve got a great formula for effective emotional control.
You probably don’t believe me. You’re too set in your ways. They already have you. That’s fine. We’re all in denial. By the way, one last thing. Praying before undertaking important tasks is a part of most rituals involved with denial. Taking final exams count. Just so you know.

Jake read what he wrote and he found it to meet his standards. Just the right amount of humor, but not too much. Informative, but in a stealthy manner. Just the right amount of sarcasm. All in all, not too bad for an hour's worth of writing. Of course, that was his opinion and sometimes, what he thought was "good" or "funny," just wasn't that good or funny. The Court of Public Opinion was a fickle court. He had to find someone who would be willing to read it. Just his luck. Jessica Perez walked by.
"Hi, Jake! What are you doing?"
"Just finished writing an article for the Broken Law Journal. Do you want to read it?"
"Sure, why not? I've got some time."
Jessica read his article. She must have enjoyed his article and found it funny as she was laughing a lot. And loudly as some 1Ls studying the current Civil Procedure casebook (the Aspen version that Jake thought was written by a pack of Chihuahuas running on top of computer keyboards) started looking at her strangely. Well, not strangely, but like armed Crusaders discovering a large group of heathen Saracens inside the Temple of Zion in Jerusalem. God forbid that someone destroys the holy, silent sanctity of a law school informal commons. Just like the well-trained drones the law school wanted.
"HA! That was funny. Are you going to submit this?"
"Yup," said Jake as he nodded his head. Now was as good a time to ask his question. He was going to her birthday party and being a conscientious person, Jake wanted to know what he should bring. "By the way, would you like my a batch of my special recipe brownies or a flourless chocolate torte? They're both tasty, but I just wanted to know if you would prefer one or the other."
"What?"
"Flourless chocolate torte or brownies? Your birthday party this Friday?"
"Hmm...do I have to choose one?"
Jake wasn't too surprised with her response. If the two choices were both good and would both produce pleasure, many people would try to get both. Even if they were forced to choose only one option. They try to create a third option.
"Yes, you have to choose only one. And it can't be both of them."
"OK...I think I'll go with the flourless chocolate torte."
"An excellent choice. I think you'll be happy with the results. Very happy."
"It better be good." She checked her watch. "It's 11:20. I've got to get to Advanced Litigation."
"Nice talking to you. Thanks for your opinion. And I'll see you on Friday night."
"Bye!" And with that, Jessica went up the stairs.

Jake packed up his laptop and he too went up the stairs. As much as he would have liked to spend the rest of the day slacking off, he had to go to Federal Income Taxaton class. It was his turn up in class to answer questions. The rolling boulder was coming and he didn't want to get flattened.
Jake said to himslef, "Time to go to class. You're up today. Can't escape now. That would be bad." And like the rest of the drones in the cult called law school, Jake went to class.
But he was driven to set himself free. He knew the truth.