A Louisiana man hired a lawyer for help with an FHA loan. The client was informed that his home loan would be granted if he could show clear title to the property.

After three months of research, the lawyer showed clear title to the property dating back to 1803. The lawyer forwarded the documentation to the FHA, which responded as follows (purportedly excerpted from the actual letter):

Upon review of your letter adjoining your client's loan application, we note that the request is supported by an Abstract of Title. While we compliment the able manner in which you have prepared and presented the application, we must point out that you have only cleared title to the proposed collateral back to 1803. Before final approval can be accorded, it will be necessary to clear the title back to its origin.

The lawyer, clearly annoyed, answered as follows (again, purportedly excerpted from the actual letter):

Your letter [...] has been received. I note that you wish to have title extended further than [1803]. I was unaware that any educated person in this country, particularly those working in the property area, would not know that Louisiana was purchased by the U. S. from France in 1803, the year of origin identified in our application.

For the edification of uninformed FHA bureaucrats, the title to the land prior to U. S. ownership was obtained from France, which had acquired it by Right of Conquest from Spain. The land came into possession of Spain by Right of Discovery made in the year 1492 by a sea captain named Christopher Columbus, who had been granted the privilege of seeking a new route to India by the then reigning monarch, Isabella. The good queen, being a pious woman and careful about titles, almost as much as the FHA, took the precaution of securing the blessing of the Pope before she sold her jewels to fund Columbus' expedition. Now the Pope, as I'm sure you know, is the emissary of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. And God, it is commonly accepted, created this world. Therefore, I believe it is safe to presume that He also made that part of the world called Louisiana. He, therefore, would be the owner of origin. I hope you find His original claim to be satisfactory.

Now, may we have our loan?

The client got the loan.

Once upon a time, in a small conservative town, a business owner began constructing a building for a new bar.

The local Baptist church started a campaign to block the bar from opening with petitions and prayers.

Work progressed, however, right up until the week before the bar's grand opening, when a lightning strike hit the bar and burned it to the ground.

The church folks were rather smug after that, until the bar owner sued the church on the grounds that the church was ultimately responsible for the demise of his building, either through direct or indirect means.

In its reply to the court, the church vehemently denied all responsibility for the bar's demise.

As the case made its way to court, the judge commented, "I don't know how I'm going to decide this, but as it appears from the paperwork, we have a bar owner who believes in the power of prayer, and an entire church congregation that doesn't!"

I'm thinking about a "strangest places to blog from" series (don't bother with correcting my prepositional grammar).

I've thought about this before; as a criminal defense lawyer, I could post from jails, prisons, courthouses, and a host of other interesting places. But, how about from inside a courtroom at counsel's table? Perhaps a journalist could pull it off, but a lawyer?

Nevertheless, this is the position I find myself in. It's not uncommon for judges to wait on lawyers, but today I find myself waiting on a judge. I look around and there are three people in the courtroom: me, my client, and his soon-to-be-ex wife, and they are all on their phones texting.

I had no urgent texts to send, so I thought I'd blog. What has this world come to?

-- From My iPhone

I apologize for my absence over the last couple of weeks. I have had back-to-back trials that have required my attention.

But, there is plenty to write about, and, as soon as I have an opportunity, I will.

My wife, sister and mother have started a part-time business selling tutus. Yes, tutus, but that's the subject of another post altogether. The real point is that God is good.

Upon the founding of Tutus by Grace, the first order of business was a booth at the World's Largest Rattlesnake Roundup's flea market. Okay, it's not 5th Avenue, but it is a rather large annual event for Sweetwater, Texas, and it draws people from all over the world. We're not 100% positive it is the tutu crowd, but the ladies have made a variety of camouflage and animal print tutus to accommodate.

Following the first business meeting of the minds, the gals ordered an event tent, a large, white 10'x20' outdoor tent in which to set up shop. The tent was necessary this early in the business because all of the indoor booths at the flea market were taken and the only available spots were outside (which is otherwise fine, except Rattlesnake Roundup weekend is notorious for bad weather).

Well, the tent arrived and we set it up. It was quite impressive. And very formal or official looking. Our plan was to tear the tent down the next morning because it was dark by the time we finished dinner. However, we weren't so fortunate. A wind storm blew in considerably earlier than expected and destroyed the tent. It seems my mother and her husband were outside on the roof at 3:00 a.m. trying to get the tent down. It was quite the disaster.

Their hopes were dashed, a bit, but the tutu makers plugged onward, albeit without a Plan B for the Roundup.

Then, in an act of divine justice, on the eve of the Roundup, my wife received a call from the organizers of the flea market who said that one space was available indoors. The caller was somewhat surprised as Tutus by Grace was number 52 (approximately) on the waiting list, but 51 other vendors were unable to be contacted or neglected to return phone calls. It was quite the tutu coup.

Along with the tent troubles, there was some question as to whether the tax I.D. information would arrive on time, and it was necessary for a vendor to register and sell. The taxing authority said it could take as many as three weeks for the information to arrive which would have been too late. Yet again, however, on the morning of the registration, what was in the mail but the tax I.D. info.

Yes, it's 30-something degrees outside. Yes, it's drizzling rain. And, yes, the tutu girls are competing against turkey legs, funnel cakes, and rattlesnake skin souvenirs for the hard-earned dollars of the flea market patrons, but God had already given His stamp of approval on this business venture in a prayer session a few weeks ago, so I'm confident the ladies will do quite well - just look at what has happened so far.

There are times when a parent longs for a little peace and quiet. But, when it is too quiet, there is no peace for the worry.

-- From My iPhone