Yes, yes, thought Neumann. Good cop, bad cop. But shall it fall to me again, as it did in the chaos that erupted out of the Iapetian Revolution, to be the bad cop? So much he hadn't understood then: the interplay of freedom and art, the way in which the Solar Authority dammed the flow of creation like so many hyper-evolved otters. He hadn't known then that it was what was stoppering the Greatbort: that it was, in a sense, SPECC - the Societal, Psychological, Emotional, and Cultural Committee - which had run off the Whokebians and destroyed the biz board. No, no: he shook his head: you couldn't have understood it at the time; our understanding of statutory-atomic entanglement was, back then, so cursory, so weak... And yet even then, before the great On-Balance/In-Balance Revolution spurred a generation to examine how legal clauses interacted with each other and with elementary particles, there were those who loved the law. Even before law was formally acknowledged as a STEM subject, they toiled thanklessly, serving the interests of their clients, and, as hyperlegal astrophysics later described, freedom, the sanctity of atomic bonds, and therefore humanity. We honor them now, Neumann thought to himself, even as we tortured them then.

Pumette smiled at him. He was a little quiet, but there was something kind of nice about that, not like the boys who got liquored up with her and talked about, well, about not much at all. She could do the talking. She pulled up a chair for Neumann at the head of the table, then sat on it in front of the junior, slowly draping one leg over the other. "So. It looks like you haven't been lasting very long at work these past few months. Is that right?"

The associate mouthed wordlessly, then tightened his lips and nodded. Ten hours it took, Neumann reflected, for the nameless Iapetian ensign they'd grabbed to summon that selfsame expression, almost wholly obscured by a network of dried blood. What had it replaced? What had they broken? Defiance, anger, trust, hope: these were the things, he now knew, that they in their pride and cowardice had sought to banish from the solar system. And now too he knew that they were the things that kept that system together. The accidents on Mars 4, Moon 3, Belt 6; in Japan, in Karachi, in New Mexico - those were not the work of a rag-tag revolution hitting whatever targets they could, but of the universe's inexorable gears, its molecular-regulatory apparatus creaking against the awful resistance it encountered. From us. From us. From us the terror, and the torture, and the trial. And still we rule now, apologies made, Iapetus a shambles. Only an even higher law than the Wachtell-Higgs Liberbosonian Principle, Neumann's very soul seemed to cry out, would have the power sufficient to dispense upon him and his fellows the dark justice they deserved.

"Well, what are we going to do with you, then?" pumette asked, bending down to look at the associate's eyes, her silky work shirt first clinging, then dipping dangerously. "I mean, your hours are just very - very - small." She held her thumb and forefinger close together right in front of his face for ten unblinking seconds, then leaned back. "You struck out at OCI, right? But we hired you anyway because John left after four months. Oh, oh, John! Oh, God!" She threw her head back and straightened one of her legs, her foot and the tall black heel she wore ending just to the side of his cheek. Her hair shook out behind her, then returned to the front as she pulled her head back up, now messy in front of her face. "John. Oh, fuck, John. Now there was a lawyer who could work all night. His timesheets were at least" - she arched an eyebrow and cast her gaze at a folder she was holding - "well, at least three times longer than yours, that's for sure. That was a man I could really trust to pound out some work product."

How many had there been? Those young, brave, independent Iapetians, many of them former commercial litigators, who seemed to have an inborn instinct for the symbiosis among unfettered free speech, scientific truth, subatomic stability, and the responsible practice of law - an instinct Neumann had trained in himself, day in and day out, in all the years since, but never developed past an inkling of a hint of a sense. Such joy, he thought bitterly, I took in my work, thinking it just and right, and noble, but - but also - but also simply because I was intoxicated with power. He heard of the Authority's Great Reversal, which demolished SPECC, phased out Privilege Counseling, and overturned the entirety of the Iapetian Approach, in the midst of kicking a man near to death. This man had told him everything he knew about the Law Center on that Saturnian moon, a Center now reduced to rubble, and where its top graduates were in hiding. But maybe he knew something else. More likely, Neumann saw just days later, he had wanted to keep kicking him. And in fact his first thought on hearing the news was disappointment about ending that particular session - a fact which had turned over the years into a knife or burning brand, with which he now tortured himself most of his waking hours, over innumerable sessions, waiting to see if he would say - well - he knew not what.

"I mean, it's pathetic, don't you think?" pumette laughed. "You really think you're going to be able to satisfy someone like *me* with this kind of - this - these clitmemos and pissbriefs?" She slapped his thigh lightly with the folder she was holding. "And when you do finish, it's just - it's like a little dribble, it's not like it's amazing work product. It's pitiful." She slapped his thigh again. "Tiny." Slap. "Weak." Slap. "Unmanly."

Neumann came out of his reverie into this scene. But what: was this torture again, albeit of a different valence, in the halls of this storied firm, one of the leading lights of the Balanced Approach? She kept slapping the associate's thigh with the folder as his expression grew more and more - well - Neumann wasn't sure what to call it. More and more extreme. It is crucially important that we all do great work here, Neumann thought, for the Greatbort, and for the System, and for the Universe, and for the Law. But then it had seemed crucially important to him all those years ago to kick the Iapetians into submission. Slap. Smack. Slap. No, no: this must stop. "Son," he said gruffly. "Son, do you love the law? I mean: do you really, in your red and fiery human heart, in the seat of what renders all of us redeemable despite our failings and our incontinence, love the law?"

"Yes!" the associate cried. "Oh, fuck, yes! Yes, I fucking love it, give me more of the law, holy fuck, don't stop giving me that fucking hot law, oh my God, I'm going to - fuck - holy shit -" He paused for breath, then resumed in a much calmer voice. "I'm going to work much harder from now on. I'm sorry to have disappointed both of you."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3010321&forum_id=2.#29489776)

or is it jshad? or is it all the same person

whoever it is this is fckng 180

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3010321&forum_id=2.#29489788)

This poast has his typical run-on sentences amidst extended descriptions of a scene. And it of course celebrates the law in the manner of a Neumann post. But Neumann typically does not do extended dialogue (though he of course could). It also lacks some of his typical meter (though not all – it captures the running descriptions well). This doesn’t have as many halting phrases as one typically sees in more literary his posts, for example. And some of the vocabulary doesn’t quite match. I wouldn’t expect to see him use ‘clitmemos’ or ‘pissbriefs,’ of course. But he typically makes a point of injecting some more abstruse vocabulary into his posts.

I also don’t think he would return as a pumo, particularly using his own style.

This could of course be him, but I don’t necessarily think it is.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3010321&forum_id=2.#29489900)

ex: greatbort which is classic NM word styling

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3010321&forum_id=2.#29489870)

ty for this poast

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3010321&forum_id=2.#29489863)

made me so HARD AS FUCK

""I mean, it's pathetic, don't you think?" pumette laughed. "You really think you're going to be able to satisfy someone like *me* with this kind of - this - these clitmemos and pissbriefs?" She slapped his thigh lightly with the folder she was holding. "And when you do finish, it's just - it's like a little dribble, it's not like it's amazing work product. It's pitiful." She slapped his thigh again. "Tiny." Slap. "Weak." Slap. "Unmanly."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3010321&forum_id=2.#29492103)

I know your influences. I'm glad they have been unleashed by the GAK

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3010321&forum_id=2.#29492595)

Author: '"'''"''''"

The junior associate hadn't come close to meeting his hours for the past six months, but his pedigree was exquisite and his interviews had been phenomenal. There was still hope - at least for one of the two high-powered attorneys tasked with giving him the talk that came before The Talk. "Let's do good cop, bad cop!" said pumette brightly, hair swishing in front of her face, opening the door and letting Neumann through first. He said nothing, so she added: "Or not."

Yes, yes, thought Neumann. Good cop, bad cop. But shall it fall to me again, as it did in the chaos that erupted out of the Iapetian Revolution, to be the bad cop? So much he hadn't understood then: the interplay of freedom and art, the way in which the Solar Authority dammed the flow of creation like so many hyper-evolved otters. He hadn't known then that it was what was stoppering the Greatbort: that it was, in a sense, SPECC - the Societal, Psychological, Emotional, and Cultural Committee - which had run off the Whokebians and destroyed the biz board. No, no: he shook his head: you couldn't have understood it at the time; our understanding of statutory-atomic entanglement was, back then, so cursory, so weak... And yet even then, before the great On-Balance/In-Balance Revolution spurred a generation to examine how legal clauses interacted with each other and with elementary particles, there were those who loved the law. Even before law was formally acknowledged as a STEM subject, they toiled thanklessly, serving the interests of their clients, and, as hyperlegal astrophysics later described, freedom, the sanctity of atomic bonds, and therefore humanity. We honor them now, Neumann thought to himself, even as we tortured them then.

Pumette smiled at him. He was a little quiet, but there was something kind of nice about that, not like the boys who got liquored up with her and talked about, well, about not much at all. She could do the talking. She pulled up a chair for Neumann at the head of the table, then sat on it in front of the junior, slowly draping one leg over the other. "So. It looks like you haven't been lasting very long at work these past few months. Is that right?"

The associate mouthed wordlessly, then tightened his lips and nodded. Ten hours it took, Neumann reflected, for the nameless Iapetian ensign they'd grabbed to summon that selfsame expression, almost wholly obscured by a network of dried blood. What had it replaced? What had they broken? Defiance, anger, trust, hope: these were the things, he now knew, that they in their pride and cowardice had sought to banish from the solar system. And now too he knew that they were the things that kept that system together. The accidents on Mars 4, Moon 3, Belt 6; in Japan, in Karachi, in New Mexico - those were not the work of a rag-tag revolution hitting whatever targets they could, but of the universe's inexorable gears, its molecular-regulatory apparatus creaking against the awful resistance it encountered. From us. From us. From us the terror, and the torture, and the trial. And still we rule now, apologies made, Iapetus a shambles. Only an even higher law than the Wachtell-Higgs Liberbosonian Principle, Neumann's very soul seemed to cry out, would have the power sufficient to dispense upon him and his fellows the dark justice they deserved.

"Well, what are we going to do with you, then?" pumette asked, bending down to look at the associate's eyes, her silky work shirt first clinging, then dipping dangerously. "I mean, your hours are just very - very - small." She held her thumb and forefinger close together right in front of his face for ten unblinking seconds, then leaned back. "You struck out at OCI, right? But we hired you anyway because John left after four months. Oh, oh, John! Oh, God!" She threw her head back and straightened one of her legs, her foot and the tall black heel she wore ending just to the side of his cheek. Her hair shook out behind her, then returned to the front as she pulled her head back up, now messy in front of her face. "John. Oh, fuck, John. Now there was a lawyer who could work all night. His timesheets were at least" - she arched an eyebrow and cast her gaze at a folder she was holding - "well, at least three times longer than yours, that's for sure. That was a man I could really trust to pound out some work product."

How many had there been? Those young, brave, independent Iapetians, many of them former commercial litigators, who seemed to have an inborn instinct for the symbiosis among unfettered free speech, scientific truth, subatomic stability, and the responsible practice of law - an instinct Neumann had trained in himself, day in and day out, in all the years since, but never developed past an inkling of a hint of a sense. Such joy, he thought bitterly, I took in my work, thinking it just and right, and noble, but - but also - but also simply because I was intoxicated with power. He heard of the Authority's Great Reversal, which demolished SPECC, phased out Privilege Counseling, and overturned the entirety of the Iapetian Approach, in the midst of kicking a man near to death. This man had told him everything he knew about the Law Center on that Saturnian moon, a Center now reduced to rubble, and where its top graduates were in hiding. But maybe he knew something else. More likely, Neumann saw just days later, he had wanted to keep kicking him. And in fact his first thought on hearing the news was disappointment about ending that particular session - a fact which had turned over the years into a knife or burning brand, with which he now tortured himself most of his waking hours, over innumerable sessions, waiting to see if he would say - well - he knew not what.

"I mean, it's pathetic, don't you think?" pumette laughed. "You really think you're going to be able to satisfy someone like *me* with this kind of - this - these clitmemos and pissbriefs?" She slapped his thigh lightly with the folder she was holding. "And when you do finish, it's just - it's like a little dribble, it's not like it's amazing work product. It's pitiful." She slapped his thigh again. "Tiny." Slap. "Weak." Slap. "Unmanly."

Neumann came out of his reverie into this scene. But what: was this torture again, albeit of a different valence, in the halls of this storied firm, one of the leading lights of the Balanced Approach? She kept slapping the associate's thigh with the folder as his expression grew more and more - well - Neumann wasn't sure what to call it. More and more extreme. It is crucially important that we all do great work here, Neumann thought, for the Greatbort, and for the System, and for the Universe, and for the Law. But then it had seemed crucially important to him all those years ago to kick the Iapetians into submission. Slap. Smack. Slap. No, no: this must stop. "Son," he said gruffly. "Son, do you love the law? I mean: do you really, in your red and fiery human heart, in the seat of what renders all of us redeemable despite our failings and our incontinence, love the law?"

"Yes!" the associate cried. "Oh, fuck, yes! Yes, I fucking love it, give me more of the law, holy fuck, don't stop giving me that fucking hot law, oh my God, I'm going to - fuck - holy shit -" He paused for breath, then resumed in a much calmer voice. "I'm going to work much harder from now on. I'm sorry to have disappointed both of you."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3010321&forum_id=2#29489776)

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3010321&forum_id=2.#38481615)