What's funny is that's exactly the sort of stuff Job had to put up with from his friends.

I find Google a boon to those of us with poor recall, incidentally.

Even when I only vaguely recall a name or a fact, a few Google searches usually reminds me of exactly what I was trying to remember -- that is, if it's the sort of information that's public to begin with.

"The library is big, but the librarian is asleep" pretty much describes my memory.

I have a lot of memories cluttering up my head, but poor recall -- poor control over accessing those memories. I remember things at random times, prompted by some outside cue that inexplicably triggers the memory. I'm much less successful at willing myself to recall a given memory when I need it.

My memory for music and poetry is much better than my memory for other things. I'm horrible at remembering numbers (less of an impediment for a mathematician than you might think). I can only remember my own phone number because of the tune the digits make when you interpret them as scale degrees.

But even with something as memorable as music, my mind plays tricks on me. Over time, my memory might unconsciously embellish or alter a melody or chord progression to make it more pleasing to me.

Given enough time, even memories of poetry and music fade -- though sometimes they leap back to life when triggered by a cue.

Also, sometimes I remember things that never happened.

In short, my memory is unreliable. I find an unreliable memory makes life less certain.

Your explanations have been very helpful, as any explanation that helps me unify the bits of knowledge I've already picked up always is.

Does this non-common law governing court procedure (such as standing orders) have a name?

Also,  shouldn't  standing orders maintain a degree of consistency in court procedure while at the same time dealing with the fact that new factual circumstances are always arising?

Challenge: Summarize the Book of Job in 200 words or less...

God allows Job to suffer. Job complains about his suffering. A lot. Job's friends try to rationalize Job's suffering using theology. Whether they tell Job that he must have sinned to deserve so much suffering, or whether they tell him that his suffering will not last long if he's innocent, what they want from Job is clear: Job should stop complaining and accept his suffering as God's will. Job doesn't buy it. So Job and his friends argue for a really, really long time.

Eventually God, who is perhaps tired of having all Job's friends speak for Him, speaks to Job out of the whirlwind. God doesn't explain to Job why He allowed Job to suffer. Instead, God recounts the majesties of creation and asks Job, in light of them, what Job has to say for himself.

Job, overawed, replies that he cannot answer God. He humbles himself and falls silent.

God then turns to Job's friends and tells them, "Only Job has spoken rightly of me."

Only Job. Not Job's friends who thought that they could speak for God.

Since you're a lawyer and I'm not, could you explain something to me?

I thought judges had to stick to the common law when they issued orders. Apparently they don't.

If standing orders aren't common law, then what kind of law are they?

No, but because for most people, understanding the Book of Job doesn't come easily, as those of us who believe we understand the book ought to realize.

The story of Job is, on the surface, monstrous. What is God doing to this poor man? Is God some sort of sadist? Why is this story even in the Bible? In my experience, many people -- even Christians -- don't really get beyond this point in their understanding of the story. And once you do get beyond this point in your understanding of the story, it can be really, really tough to put your understanding into words.

As Amy quoted above, "The book of Job is a classic because all of life is a mystery."

The mysteries of life are a little tough to Twitter.

Not necessarily. You're a lawyer, so presumably you know more about the difference between statutory and common law than I do. 

I'm not a lawyer, merely a laysnake with an interest in the history of common law. And it seems to me that well-made common law is often more responsive to people's real-life legal problems than statutes are.

"And God shall wipe away all tears" is pretty generic.

I know very little about prenuptial agreements, since my husband and I didn't want one. But it's my understanding that people who enter marriage with a prenup have a great deal of freedom to customize their "marriage contract", including what happens in the event of a divorce.

If you choose to forgo a prenup, though, you're choosing to enter into a "generic contract" whose terms have been built up through custom and tradition -- including precedents set by your state's family law courts in the event of a divorce.

I think part of the problem with marriage today is that we try so hard to avoid framing it in contractual terms, even though more contractual framing would make spouses' duties to each other clearer from the outset. (For one thing, treating marriage more contractually might prompt those inclined to be dissatisfied with the traditional obligations of marriage to customize their arrangements  before  they're already married...)

The Book of Job is an achingly beautiful -- and extremely enigmatic -- book of the Bible. I can understand the desire to quote a verse from it during a tragedy. But not in public. Not to strangers.

Some of us recall great poetry when we are moved. That doesn't mean others want to hear us quote it.

Reminds me of some study that I used to know.

Nice! Didn't know so many people could play one guitar.

The Star Wars cover is also hilarious.

Incidentally, the above beleaguered Episcopalian's blog links to a rather delightful time-waster, a six-question quiz entitled, "Which Church Father are you?"

I'm Origen, apparently. (Not exactly a surprise.) I'd bet James of England is also an Origen -- except for the bit about the kitchen shears:

You are Origen! You do nothing by half-measures. If you’re going to read the Bible, you want to read it in the original languages. If you’re going to teach, you’re going to reach as many souls as possible, through a proliferation of lectures and books. If you’re a guy and you’re going to fight for purity … well, you’d better hide the kitchen shears.

Another link courtesy of Simcha Fisher, to a blog by a beleaguered Episcopalian.

There used to be a lot to love about the Episcopal Church, and if you're lucky, you sometimes still find a congregation where there still is a lot to love. But... sigh.

It's not the odd gay couple in the congregation that bugs me. A church that permits divorcees to remarry already shows its willingness to tolerate unions that fall short of the Christian ideal of marriage, and everyone has their kinks. It's the twisting of theology, the slandering of gentle ol' St Paul as a spite-filled homophobe...

If God already approves of everything we do, why do we need God's forgiveness?

One thing the Episcopal Church still has going for it: it has done more than most to preserve the tradition of beautiful sacred music. In my experience, you're usually safe from Marty Haugen in an Episcopal church, which is more than I can say for the Catholic and Lutheran churches I've been to.

Lanny Davis: IRS Scandal "Will Make it Almost Impossible to Elect a Democratic President"

I do not share his optimism.