Lewis LaCook
Since 2001
Works in Lorain, Ohio United States of America

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Court Approves Random Drug Tests in Public High Schools

hello, amerikkka!

Court Approves Random Drug Tests in Public High

Filed at 10:23 a.m. ET

WASHINGTON (AP) -- The Supreme Court approved random
drug tests for many public high school students
Thursday, ruling that schools' interest in ridding
their campuses of drugs outweighs an individual's
right to privacy.

The 5-4 decision would allow the broadest drug testing
the court has yet permitted for young people whom
authorities have no particular reason to suspect of
wrongdoing. It applies to students who join
competitive after-school activities or teams, a
category that includes many if not most middle-school
and high-school students.

Previously these tests had been allowed only for
student athletes.

``We find that testing students who participate in
extracurricular activities is a reasonably effective
means of addressing the school district's legitimate
concerns in preventing, deterring and detecting drug
use,'' Justice Clarence Thomas wrote for himself,
Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist and Justices
Antonin Scalia, Anthony M. Kennedy and Stephen Breyer.

The court stopped short of allowing random tests for
any student, whether or not involved in
extracurricular activities, but several justices have
indicated they are interested in answering that
question at some point.

The court ruled against a former Oklahoma high school
honor student who competed on an academic quiz team
and sang in the choir. Lindsay Earls, a self-described
``goodie two-shoes,'' tested negative but sued over
what she called a humiliating and accusatory policy.

The Pottawatomie County school system had considered
testing all students. Instead, it settled for testing
only those involved in extracurricular activities on
the theory that by voluntarily representing the
school, those students had a lower expectation of
privacy than did students at large.

The ruling is a follow-up to a 1995 case, in which the
court allowed random urine tests for student athletes.
In that case, the court found that the school had a
pervasive drug problem and that athletes were among
the users. The court also found that athletes had less
expectation of privacy.

Thursday's ruling is the logical next step, the
Oklahoma school and its backers said, and the court
majority agreed.

``The particular testing program upheld today is not
reasonable, it is capricious, even perverse,'' Justice
Ruth Bader Ginsburg wrote for the dissenters.

In a brief, separate dissent, Justices Sandra Day
O'Connor and David Souter said they disagreed with the
court's ruling in 1995 and disagree now.

Of the estimated 14 million American high school
students, better than 50 percent probably participate
in some form of organized after-school activity,
educators say. The trend is toward ever greater
extracurricular participation, largely because
colleges consider it a factor in admissions.

Earls and the American Civil Liberties Union argued
that the Oklahoma school board could not show that
drugs were a big problem at Tecumseh High School. She
claimed the ``suspicionless'' drug tests violated the
Constitution's guarantee against unreasonable

Pottawatomie educators, backed by the Bush
administration, argued that any drug problem is a
concern. Also, the school said, the drug tests were a
deterrent for students who knew they could not
participate in favorite activities unless they stayed

During oral arguments in the case in March, a Bush
administration lawyer said universal testing would be
constitutional, even though a lawyer for the Oklahoma
school said she doubted that would be so.

Numerous schools installed drug testing programs for
athletes after the 1995 ruling, but wider drug testing
remains relatively rare among the nation's 15,500
public school districts. Lower courts have reached
differing conclusions about the practice.

The Tecumseh testing program ran for part of two
school years, beginning in 1998. It was suspended
after Earls and another student sued. Earls is now a
student at Dartmouth College.

The Tecumseh policy covered a range of voluntary clubs
and sports, including the Future Farmers of America
club, cheerleading and football. Students were tested
at the beginning of the school year. Thereafter, tests
were random.

Overall, 505 high school students were tested for drug
use. Three students, all of them athletes, tested

A federal appeals court ruled against the program,
saying it took the Supreme Court's 1995 ruling too
far. Sports are different from other extracurricular
activities, the lower court said, and the school had
not done enough to show that students who participated
in those activities were abusing drugs.

The school district appealed to the Supreme Court.

The case is Board of Education of Independent School
District No. 92 of Pottawatomie County v. Earls,



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some of my work here==as well as some bennett, some bernstein, some berry....

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Sex with Terrorists: Alan Sondheim's Skein & Theory at Furtherfield.org


Sex with Terrorists: Alan Sondheim's Skein & Theory at Furtherfield.org

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text for instrument 4(?) continued...

Which means what? Of course, I'm "kind" (listening,
over the
sunspasms of my parking lot, to children hidden
somewhere in the
trees at play), I "listen" to the text (which Bob
fucks from its
sticky box, Breuckl-groin'd as Unicef fetching teflon
fingerfoods) as it uncurls like burning sensuality
from the husk-
nerves just jangled by machine problems, like being
born in 1970
(this was the year Black Sabbath...), but where does
that leave
her? With glasses, which means (signifier) that she's
smart; the
brown creek rolling almost dried to the expanded banks
across her
belly, warm like birth, which (signifier) in 1970 was
a November
etching on metal's guitar-based saturation: back then,
it wasn't even called "metal," it was "rock and roll,"
and you
can't kill it, no matter how much networking our two
together can seem like mesmerism in semic clash
in fact, 'tis only the peaks of an utterance we feel
listening in through the blacktop trees to the smell
the sun
leaves as it runs down the sky, though I stand
point-blank with
the horizon and headTippedBack crane to swallow it,
like a
toothbrush embedded sleeplessly in the head). So she
goes away,
eventually, like the rain immolates all those
foursquare drawings
we charted in chalk at the sidewalk level; she leaves
with her
warm belly, and the circle of retarded kids
(signifier) are left
to play kickball instead; remember the cross-hatched
hide on
those balls? The hollow flaccid pock that sounded when
connected with velocity, rolling ever closer and just
at that
angle into air? I thought I could control it. I'd
close my eyes
or fix its passage cleaving air furrowed like frost as
it rose,
and I would try to draw the ball closer to me waiting
in the far
fields (this is where those odd and lonely trees are
that I
befriend, pissing my bellyful of Mad Dog or Wild Irish
Rose into
their roots: riding our bikes to KMart on weekends
John and I
passed through the good neighborhoods where our denim
and our
long hair rotted like sweaty entropy, and I stomp down
surprise prettiness of flowerbed as vengeance for
something(signified)), try to get the ball to land in
my arms,
Meanwhile, Claire needs an upload of mp3 for her
which extends from one end of the space-without-space
to the
other (business?), and which I wake to dip into only
The lot's calling me from behind milky walls; in the
morning the
sun and the heat are weaker than at night, which is
all ablaze
with her and I here, hanging below the poor old woman
above us
who keeps falling and breaking her bones (she's gone
again now,
and the wind rushing through the lot working picks up
trash along
with it, crimped kleenex and crumbled Dutch Master
jackets). Here
there is no trash, everything's burned in need of
living engine,
everything's genuine and painted over with smoothness
unresembling scratched skin in red unburnished furrows

(business). Sometimes I dream about how I got here,
relieving the
brothers who split the sky with their pristine and
darkness, taking dewrag duty on my own pursuits as a
rupture that
quite slowly swells whole again: I wish I had every
tear of
someone's left me on disk or CD-Rom, then I could
reapply them in
all the mess and message of crystal, wear them like I
wore them
walking howlful into nights it was clear this one or
that one
didn't or couldn't love me, and I was separate from
the world
wholly and in fields, listening unstoned to the
skimming fragrance of grass dead in the fibers (taking
swallowing ephedrine and caffeine, jazz in my hair as
rustled the suburbs and out blew the exquisite birds,
somewhere as an escape, as I stared down the barrel of
my time
stuck to blacktop and embedded in my mind). This must
started bouncing the dusty basketball with its hollow
pock that
sucked my hands dry alone, thinking first of movies
I'd make
somehow or scribble invisibly over the inner head
dealt with. I'd
send Kevin away, who was my best friend who sucked at
something of his vulnerability disgusted me, the
growling father
who was larger than sunshine in a splotched t-shirt
drawl, the
mother nervous in her inward renovations, the nova of
bloating his sister the sunvisor in talk about taking
my shirt
off, over his cousin whom I kiss first and deeply. I
was fat
then. Then I was sick; with wine, with poetry, with
virtue if you
will. I didn't want to control us but I did; my movies
were Luke
Skywalker action figures I never wanted to be dueling
electrically on a crumbled kneelength wall in the
backyard (the
old people shimmy down the outer railing with the
dichotomy fluffed-up and foaming--more or less, he
said, and the
chatter was ringed with water precious and low in
these days of
St. John's Wort, wherein I watch the parking lot
rapaciously in the only direction there ever really
is, in in
in), the duel was mine, old lady, your announcements
sheaved in
palm and carried house-to-house (I have a
responsibility to the
reader to tell her that these are reports on the condo

asscoiation, which is a living or corporate retreat
from the
embolism of traffic on Staples Mill) in dual rapport,
cherry flavor of gingko in the coffee I wax over
sawing this
branch on which I swing.

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proposed text for Instrument 4 flash

I took the text out of the box, Marc said, the box out
of the sun
splashing over leaves this morning amid the screams of
birds (a
robin just hopped into eyesight here), and the sun I
took out of
the parking lot over which I unofficially preside. The
lot over which I unofficially preside is just now this
before the white car cleaved it frothing; it
anticipates another
scorcher of a day, though I'll keep my shirt on, even
shopping with her yesterday (in Lane Bryant the music
is house
house house, the fat girls shuffle through racks of
bled denim
and potential transformations, no-one knows how
beautiful they
are except me, how like gracious moons escaped from
the slavery
of satellitism they flow through daydreaming with her
of her,
eyes widened planetary behind nerd specs and the
troubled lips)
means today will bite Henry the GirlCat on waking, who
around my bare and white legs like a friendly smoke as
I pry
coffee from the filter tree (must I save these sullen
from smoke inhalation and heart disease? Must I take
my Saint
John's Wort with two droppers of Gingko Biloba in the
cup?). One
remembers Old Navy as a fourth of July sale spritzing
summer red
white and blur.
Yeah, I took the text out of the box. It wasn't
powered, but had its own assembly just beneath the
slick business
of the screen (I'd learned long ago that codes wrote
this out,
not I; the parking lot with its unofficial baroque of
cars asleep
in the resonant sun sighed with its head on its sunny
paws). I held the text in my hands for minutes undone,
it with my eyes with sounds I stole from daily bread.
It was a
rise in crime I saw there assailing the _root. Some of
us had the
luxury of the power-walk built-in; they marched along
blacktop swinging their arms, sun visor in passionate
place just
above a tan that contrasted byzantine with a blue and
mauve tie-
dye shirt that asked: what do you believe in, if
anything, here
in this unofficial parking lot gaze? The difference
between this
and the other place (and the place other than that,
and the place
other than that, and...) is that I have this barely
closed room
over all, in which I can sit sipping today's
temperature without
agitation, and those that see me floating like this
across from
the trees aligned so raw like scandalous nature and
her dirty
pussy ticking sex out inch by inch can take me for
just another
planet, meanwhile I'm dreaming casual crimping of her
ass thrust
into my groin, burning pelvis drips like newly
grounded color
tongues swallowing my excitement like death herself
would trap me
if she were anything but feeble there, baffled at how
just this
chain of her and I linked by pushing in and pulling
out (not to
mention with fingers buried, and one just pressing the
which just earlier had been depressed in pores) is
itself a
living, and a good one at that!

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