Oyez? Oh, No!

Let me make absolutely clear that if nominated to fill the seat to be vacated by Justice Stephens on the Supreme Court, I will decline. If confirmed in that seat by the Senate, I will not serve.

"But, Tom," you may be saying, "Why not? It's security for life. It's rock-star fame. Plus, since everyone knows the law clerks do all the heavy lifting, it's a cushy gig, too."

Well, I'll tell you.

A few weeks back, Mr. and Mrs. LMC left the vast but secure holdings known as Ft. LMC to come up for a visit at Orgle Manor. (In fact, it was for the eldest Llama-ette's twelfth birthday, they being her Godparents.)

At some point during the weekend, a copy of our mutual law school class yearbook was dug out of the corner of one of the more obscure shelves in the Orgle Manor library. I hadn't clapped eyes on the thing in a good ten years or so.

Opening the book and beholding my twenty year younger self, I was mortified. It isn't that I've aged very much, because I haven't. Instead, I simply could not believe what a prized prat I seemed, with glazed eyes and crooked frown. I didn't look scholarly. I didn't look lawyerly. Instead, I looked like I had a serious case of the piles. (As a matter of fact, I recall that what I did have when the photo was shot was a serious hangover.) If the present me were asked to consider a job application with the then-me mug attached to it, I'd have laughed heartily and tossed it straight into the trash. (And if you say that perhaps accomplishments matter more than looks, I would reply that all things considered I was a pretty mediocre student.)

Anyway, the thought of the press getting their hooks on that pic and splashing it all over the teevee is more than enough of a horror to keep me from ever pursuing a position that's likely to draw such attention. No. Thankee.