Speaking of "Destry Rides Again," they do a Gentile version of the "chutzpah" joke of the fellow who murders his parents and begs the court for mercy because he's an orphan. 1939, people. And imagine my surprise when the phrase "No jury would convict you" pops up as a gag in the 1928 silent movie "Steamboat Bill, Jr."—I knew it was the first (one of the first?) instantiations of the gag where the falling building facade misses the hero by virtue of a window (done recently in "Arrested Development"), but who expected a catchphrase that would survive three quarters of a century later?

One of my last conversations with C., before we stopped speaking to one another (for different reasons—at least, I think they were different reasons):

"I got a thumbs-up to go forward on my book. Everyone thinks it's a great idea."
"Oh? What's your book going to be about?"
I told her.
"That subject makes you so mad. You're going to be walking around angry for a year."
"Not mad, passionate. It'll help me write."
"I think she should have won that case. That lady deserved every penny she got."
"Well, let's talk about something else."

Anyway, because I'm attuned to the subject, I've been noticing things I hadn't previously thought of. Such as how the idea of a grievous coffee burn is so much a part of the zeitgeist. Everything from Cary Grant in "Only Angels Have Wings" to Judge Reinhold stopping an armed robbery in "Fast Times At Ridgemont High." Even Jimmy Stewart in "Destry Rides Again": "I wouldn't want to have this coffee spilled in my lap, would I?" And especially Lee Marvin's use of coffee in the 1953 Fritz Lang film noir classic "The Big Heat."

Anyway, I'm going to pull a Volokh-like bleg here: this won't be a big part of the book, but if you know any other good scalding-coffee scenes in a pre-1992 movie or tv show (in other words, the "Seinfeld" satire with Kramer and Jackie Chiles doesn't count), please drop me an e-mail or a note in the comments.

(Will be partially cross-posted at Overlawyered once the server is back up.)

I am tremendously entertained by the perfect casting choice of Mark Feuerstein in this movie. Adam Bonin, Chicago JD '97, husband of superstar author Jennifer Weiner, kvells, tongue in cheek:

In Her Shoes tells the story of Simon Stein (Mark Feuerstein), an intelligent, caring lawyer from the gritty streets of Philadelphia, and how his kindness, wit and animal-like erotic charge helped two sisters patch long-seated grievances. His empathetic demeanor and Semitic good looks form the anchor of this moving dramedy. When he is on the screen, you are transfixed; when he is not, you ask, Where's Simon? Is he okay? Is he having any emotional epiphanies without me?

Bonin and I used to waste a great deal of time arguing with tax protestors on the Usenet way back when, and he now has one of my favorite blogs. I missed the preview when DC Film Society had it, but I'm not going to miss the movie, which is getting good buzz, notwithstanding its chick-flickiness. Congrats to the couple.