Dallas Koehn's Blog: Rough Drafts, Promos, and Brilliant Insights

Zod Wallop is one of my favorite books of all time. It’s the single most engaging piece of fiction I’ve ever read, and remains so each and every time I’ve devoured it. It’s a book about loss and acceptance, innocence and broken people, and a crazy man with a monkey who believes he’s on a holy mission. It’s also about an author afraid of too much truth and withdrawn from human connection because he simply can’t take the harsh reality of personal loss.

In short, it’s one of those books I like talking about at any opportunity. The problem is, few people around me have read it. Most have never even heard of it, other than my carrying on about it. In other words, there’s no one to talk about it with.

If much of my own rhetoric is to be believed, this shouldn’t be a problem. Make your own way! March to your own drumbeat! Don’t go along with the crowd - you do you! Learn to live with who you are! Yay, individuality!

If I’m being honest, I’ve sometimes looked down a bit on folks who watch specific shows or listen to particular music or read certain books just because they’re popular. That’s what’s wrong with modern culture! You’re why the Kardashians happened! Have some dignity, people!

On the other hand, folks who do that get to talk to one another about those shows, that music, and those books. They have a shared Squid Game experience, however tragic I might find that to be. Meanwhile, I’m over here marinating in my own lofty elitism with my far superior music collection and personal library.

Alone.

So there!

Of course, part of the appeal of literature is that it IS company. The right story can be travel, or counsel, or knowledge, or inspiration. When you READ, you’re already talking about the content with at least one other person - the author (or at least the text). You often talk about it with yourself as well. A good book has a way of poking around inside you and making you think about things differently, and maybe feel things differently as well.

One of the primary justifications for including diverse literature in any school curriculum is that fiction promotes empathy. How many people alive in the United States today think and feel as they do about the Holocaust largely because of Anne Frank’s diary or that little boy in the striped pajamas? How many of our perceptions concerning right and wrong in society and government have been shaped by our connections with Boxer in Animal Farm, Piggy in Lord of the Flies, or Katniss Everdeen in The Hunger Games?

I’d never claim to truly know what it’s like to die from cancer just because I loved The Fault in Our Stars, but it’s given me a far better appreciation for the range of ways in which people respond to severe illnesses. I’ve never been Black or female or gay, but I’m a tiny bit closer to being able to connect with and value those who are because I’ve been allowed to become those things in a small, temporary way when I read.

But it’s not just a better understanding of others we often find between exposition and denouement. Many novels, short stories, and other texts mess with our understanding of ourselves as well.

Generations of young American boys grew up believing they could succeed even during hard times because of Horatio Alger books. Generations of high school girls grew up believing that sex with someone hundreds of years older than themselves AND a vampire couldn’t be THAT bad thanks to Twilight. Books force us to recognize ourselves not only in the heroic, but in the shameful. The broken. The desperate. The angry. They let us root for the protagonist even when relating far more closely to the supportive friend, the bewildered parent, or even the antagonist. Good stories shake up what we think, believe, and feel, leaving the solid bits reaffirmed and the shaky bits, well… shaken.

Good friends know when to encourage you, when to distract you, and when to call you out. Literature often does all three at once.

Which brings me back to Zod Wallop. I won’t try to summarize the plot here (you can look it up easily enough), but suffice it to say that it challenges with reckless abandon the distinctions we make between fantasy and reality, conviction and delusion, individuality and connection. The main characters turn out to be inextricably interwoven into one another’s stories for better or worse - and not all of them are thrilled at the realization. It’s not easy to befriend a madman with a monkey who claims to be on a holy crusade, especially when his mission is driven by your own words, feelings, and values (none of which were intended to mean what he insists they must).

And yet… maybe that’s what it takes to return to reality. Maybe we have to accept the unbearable and embrace the unbelievable to get back to living.

The past several years have not been great ones for me. We all know the externals - the pandemic and the Trump years and the disappointment of watching friends and family embrace fascism and white supremacy in the name of an unrecognizable Jesus and a mythologized American past. I haven’t had it any worse than anyone else, and I’m sure my life was and still is far easier than many. I am either blessed or lucky, depending on your point of view, and I recognize this daily.

But I haven’t handled things very well. I bailed on most social media not because of my lofty principles, but because I didn’t like who I was when handed that microphone. I’ve drifted away from most of the folks skilled at tolerating me in real life. A spot of unpleasantness a few years ago completely derailed how I thought of myself as a teacher and a colleague, which in turn forced me to realize how heavily I’d been leaning on those elements of my identity to prop up pretty much everything else.

I still believe much of the rhetoric we throw around about the impact teachers can have on students, but those kites need string and someone with a good grip and their feet firmly planted on the ground. That was no longer me.

Things have gradually gotten better, but I don’t think I’ll ever feel about teaching, or being part of a community, or the supposed “calling” behind the profession, the way I used to. At the same time, I’ve probably spent too much energy soaking in the resentment and self-loathing of it all. I don’t believe in avoiding or denying unpleasant emotions or uncomfortable realizations, but that doesn’t mean we have to marinate in darkness forever.

Just ask Wanda Maximoff, amiright?

I think it’s time for me to read Zod Wallop again. It’s not a perfect novel, and it’s certainly not a holy book or a magical cure for anything, but it is a wonderfully manic fantasy which wrestles with the road back from isolation and anger and other very dark places through faith and passion and existential leaps into uncertain possibilities. By taking readers into a world of impossible events and unlikely characters, it circumvents our usual defenses and surprises us with just how much of ourselves we find there. Spencer shakes things up enough that by the time we land at the end, there’s a good chance we’re a bit better off than we were when we started.

Maybe we’re a bit better, period.

If Zod Wallop isn’t the book that does that for you, there are other titles out there. Lots of them. Whatever madness remains to be faced, collectively or personally, none of us have to do so alone. Grab a good book and hold on tight.

Many history aficionados get a bit touchy when “outsiders” label something from history “boring.” Like, anything. There’s so much we find fascinating or important or connected or just… weird that it’s easy to take it a bit personally when someone labels our interests “lame” (even when they soften such declarations with more moderate language).

It’s how many of you probably felt the first time someone told you 9/11 didn’t seem like such a big deal because they didn’t know anyone killed in the attack, or questioned why we need to know math, or basic biology, or what Muslims believe, if we’re not currently dating an Islamic scientist. WHAT DO YOU MEAN “WHO CARES ABOUT CIVIL WAR MEDICAL TECHNOLOGY?!?!”

And yet, if we’re being entirely honest, there are some things in history - even U.S. history - which are serious yawners. That doesn’t mean they’re not important, or connected to things which are interesting. It doesn’t mean we don’t need to know them. It’s just that they’re, well…

Boring.

Whether you’re a high school history student, working your way through college, or simply read history for personal enrichment or a temporary escape from horror and embarrassment you feel at everything going on around you today, you’ve no doubt noticed how often you're expected to zero in on stuff with no intrinsic traction at ALL - tariff policies, the Bessemer Process, anti-trust legislation, Jimmy Carter…

I mean, there was that thing where he was attacked by a bunny in the middle of a lake, but other than that… *SNORE*.

And yet, a number of these “boring” things keep showing up in state curriculums and standardized exams. Even AP U.S. History (insert all the usual disclaimers about how I don’t work for the College Board and they haven’t blessed my efforts with a cyan acorn) loves diving deep into stuff the rest of us would never think to get that excited about - the impact of new technologies on immigration patterns, fiscal policy tensions between nineteenth century political parties… even Jimmy Carter.

Seriously. They ask SOMETHING about him EVERY YEAR.

There are plenty of titles out there promising you the most interesting, unknown, or shocking stories from American history. Many of them deliver quite effectively. That’s a good thing. I love history, and I’m thrilled any time one of my betters finds a way to make it fresh and real to a new audience. If you want exciting tales from our collective past, they’re easy enough to find.

What I haven't come across are titles focusing on the boring bits. If you want anything more than cursory coverage of the Hartford Convention, the American System and its contributions to sectional tensions, or the Populist Party, you generally have to commit to some rather hefty academic volumes. It feels like your options are either Wikipedia or enrolling in a master’s degree program focused entirely on the pros and cons of centralized banking.

Nothing wrong with either of those, but I figured we needed a third option.

“Have To” History: The Boring Parts covers all the stuff you really don’t want to know (but for some reason have to) about the most boring events, people, and issues in American history. Each chapter opens with the “Three Big Things” you just gotta gotta know about the topic, followed by historical context and any other essential background to help you make sense of the whole mess. It’s intended to be useful and engaging for students and adult readers alike. (It could prove helpful for many teachers as well, but we’re a touchy bunch and I couldn’t figure out how to say that without it sounding like I think we don’t all know everything about everything already.)

Most importantly, there’s an ineffable “cool factor” which descends around you the moment you’re spotted reading it in any setting.

As I type this, the book is live on Amazon and I’m in the process of sending out free promo copies to anyone willing to commit to writing a review on Amazon / Goodreads (just between you and me, it can be the exact same review and no one seems to complain).

The reviews and ‘star’ ratings of my first effort, “Have To” History: Landmark Supreme Court Cases, made a HUGE difference. I didn’t push the second book, "Have To” History: A Wall of Education, in the same way, partly because it’s focused on a much more specific topic and partly because I was curious what would happen, and the response has been… tepid.

So, if I can be real a second - for just a millisecond - let my guard down and tell the #11FF how I feel a second…

I’m genuinely proud of this latest book. I mean, just between you and me, it’s pretty damn good. I sometimes wish I hadn’t written it, just so I could read it for the first time and experience what you’re about to! Seriously, I get a bit teary just thinking about it.

But I’m also asking for your help. Written reviews are everything on Amazon - good ones, mixed ones, even bad ones if you really think the book sucks. (It doesn’t. That kind of attitude is why no one likes you.) They're a pretty big deal on Goodreads as well. If you're reading this, I’d love to send you a promo copy for free. All I ask is that once you’ve had a chance to peruse it, you take the time to post your thoughts on Amazon and Goodreads - good, bad, or other. Even 3-4 sentences makes a huge difference next to those little stars they ask you to click.

If that's something you'd be willing to do in the next few months, email me at BCE@BlueCerealEducation.com with your name and shipping info and I'll get one on the way to you. Feel free to share this with friends, families, co-workers, local politicians, federal officials, or your local public school or library.

In the meantime, keep breathing. Keep connecting. Keep clinging to truth and caring for the people you love. It matters.

This is the rough draft of one of the chapters from "Have To" History: A Wall of Education as posted on Blue Cereal Education dot com. I'm sharing it as a teaser for the book, but also as a point of comparison for anyone interested enough to compare the first "final" version with the actual published "final' version - like bonus features on a Blu-ray.

Because yes, I'm clearly THAT cool and worth analyzing. You're welcome.

Worth A Look: Elk Grove Unified School District v. Newdow (2004)

"The command to guard jealously and exercise rarely our power to make constitutional pronouncements requires strictest adherence when matters of great national significance are at stake. Even in cases concededly within our jurisdiction under Article III, we abide by a series of rules under which we have avoided passing upon a large part of all the constitutional questions pressed upon us for decision... Always we must balance the heavy obligation to exercise jurisdiction... against the deeply rooted commitment not to pass on questions of constitutionality unless adjudication of the constitutional issue is necessary...

"Consistent with these principles... {a} plaintiff must show that the conduct of which he complains has caused him to suffer an 'injury in fact' that a favorable judgment will redress... Without such limitations… the courts would be called upon to decide abstract questions of wide public significance even though other governmental institutions may be more competent to address the questions and even though judicial intervention may be unnecessary to protect individual rights...

"Thus, while rare instances arise in which it is necessary to answer a substantial federal question that transcends or exists apart from the family law issue, in general it is appropriate for the federal courts to leave delicate issues of domestic relations to the state courts."

(from the majority opinion by Justice John Paul Stevens – internal quotes and citations omitted for clarity)

"The Court today erects a novel prudential standing principle in order to avoid reaching the merits of the constitutional claim. I dissent from that ruling. On the merits, I conclude that the Elk Grove Unified School District policy that requires teachers to lead willing students in reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, which includes the words 'under God,' does not violate the Establishment Clause of the First Amendment...

"Reciting the Pledge, or listening to others recite it, is a patriotic exercise, not a religious one; participants promise fidelity to our flag and our Nation, not to any particular God, faith, or church."

(from the opinion of Chief Justice William Rehnquist, concurring in the judgement)

"There are no de minimis violations of the Constitution — no constitutional harms so slight that the courts are obliged to ignore them. Given the values that the Establishment Clause was meant to serve, however, I believe that government can… acknowledge or refer to the divine without offending the Constitution. This category of 'ceremonial deism' most clearly encompasses such things as the national motto ('In God We Trust'), religious references in traditional patriotic songs such as The Star-Spangled Banner, and the words with which the Marshal of this Court opens each of its sessions ('God save the United States and this honorable Court').

"These references are not minor trespasses upon the Establishment Clause to which I turn a blind eye. Instead, their history, character, and context prevent them from being constitutional violations at all."

(from the opinion of Justice Sandra Day O’Connor, concurring in the judgement)

"Adherence to Lee {v. Weisman (1992) and other precedents established by this Court} would require us to strike down the Pledge policy, which, in most respects, poses more serious difficulties than the prayer at issue in Lee. A prayer at graduation is a one-time event, the graduating students are almost (if not already) adults, and their parents are usually present. By contrast, very young students, removed from the protection of their parents, are exposed to the Pledge each and every day...

"I conclude that, as a matter of our precedent, the Pledge policy is unconstitutional. I believe, however, that Lee was wrongly decided. Lee depended on a notion of 'coercion' that… has no basis in law or reason..."

(from the opinion of Justice Clarence Thomas, concurring in the judgement)

Elk Grove v. Newdow involved an issue the Supreme Court has otherwise tried very hard to avoid: the inclusion of “under God” in the Pledge of Allegiance, at least in terms of its mandatory recitation in classrooms across the nation every school day. The Court had determined in West Virginia v. Barnette (1943) that students could not be required to stand and participate in the Pledge. Far more recently, however, in Lee v. Weisman (1992), the Court found state-sponsored prayer at graduation ceremonies – whether students actively participated or not – to be a violation of the Establishment Clause. By inserting religious dogma, however briefly, into an important educational ritual, the State was coercing students who wished to participate into choosing between silent acquiescence or the potential disruption and embarrassment of some form of overt protest.

Michael Newdow, an eccentric but sincere atheist, was convinced the daily conflation of patriotism with religious belief in his daughter’s elementary school classroom was at least equally inappropriate. He filed suit on behalf of both himself and his daughter, claiming among other things that this was a blatant violation of the Establishment Clause and he didn’t want his child subjected to it any longer.

General, brief references to the Almighty have been a part of innumerable American traditions since long before the First Amendment was an ink spot at the top of James Madison’s parchment. It has thus been difficult at times for the Court to reconcile the proverbial “wall of separation” with a history demonstrating that the authors of the sentiment obviously didn’t mean in everything. Unlike compromises over slavery or state vs. federal power, there’s no evidence the Framers willingly kicked this constitutional can down the road for their scions to sort out. They simply saw no conflict between a reasonable degree of religious acknowledgement in public life while shielding personal faith from the machinery of government.

As the nation has evolved and the concept of “personal belief system” has expanded a bit beyond what could have been envisioned a few short centuries ago, this particular balance has proven trickier than expected. It doesn’t help that the religious majority hasn’t always shown itself to be overly accommodating or sympathetic to anyone outside the chosen few. Self-identifying as a spiritual “other” has often resulted in personal, professional, or physical harm, making governmental choices about even ceremonial prayers or displays a tad more problematic than a First Lady supporting one hockey team over another or the ceremonial naming of highways.

Supreme Court decisions sometimes have explosive potential, unfortunately. It matters what our government validates or who it marginalizes. Maybe it shouldn’t, but… it does.

The Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals agreed with Newdow and declared the use of the Pledge in public schools unconstitutional. Other federal courts had ruled differently in similar cases, setting up the exact sort of confusion that often prompts the Supremes to take up a subject they might otherwise prefer to circumvent. Once the details were officially before them, the majority found they had a very convenient out – Newdow was not the custodial parent of his daughter. While sharing custody in practice, the girl’s mother was the legal guardian and not thrilled with her daughter suddenly being in the headlines (not by name, but still!) for such a controversial reason. Besides, Mom was a church-goer, as was the daughter, and neither wanted to take this particular stand.

Thus the Court’s “aw, shucks!” opinion in which it somehow spun “no way we’re touching this” into “across the ages of jurisprudential magnanimity it has proven prudent for this hallowed body to shunneth the touching of grand slam breakfast issues such as these eggs with so much as the proverbial ten cubit pole.” In other words, the Court would not rule on the constitutional question involved because a majority was unpersuaded Newdow had standing to bring the complaint in the first place.

Technically, they may have been correct. Realistically, there were doubtless a number of relieved sighs. Maybe even cupcakes.

Chief Justice Rehnquist, Justice O’Connor, and Justice Thomas concurred with the result, but not the reasoning. Each submitted a separate opinion suggesting that they’d be more than happy to declare a little patriotic Jesus here and there as perfectly acceptable, because... reasons. (With concurrences like that, who needs dissents?)

Despite the attempted pot-stirring by these three justices, the underlying issue remains foggy and unlikely to reach the Supreme Court again anytime soon. It is thus safe to keep stumbling and mumbling your way through the daily Pledge of Uh, Legions before the roughly 3-second "minute of silence." Apparently this bit of generally unenthusiastic ceremony is constitutionally safe for now.

It's dangerous to start pushing a book when I haven't seen the physical final product yet. I learned last time that no matter how many weird formatting issues, overlooked typos, and random nude shots you're POSITIVE you've resolved, there are always a few more waiting to be discovered once you've started promoting the thing and your entire sense of self-worth is on the line.

And yet, I'm pretty happy this one is finally "live," no matter what minor edits may be necessary down the road. I'm sharing the Author's Intro with you here by way of a teaser so you'll get SO intrigued and engaged that you simply have to know more, whatever the cost or personal risk involved. Besides, haul around a volume like this for a few days and everyone will assume you are a DEEP, DEEP THINKER. It's THAT good.

"Have To” History: A Wall Of Education - What the Supreme Court Really Says (and What It Really Doesn’t) About the Separation of Church and State in Education

When I published “Have To” History: Landmark Supreme Court Cases a few years ago, I added a brief “Afterword” explaining how I came to find myself so fascinated with the decisions of the nation’s highest court over the years and what I hoped to accomplish by doing my own overview of 45 or so of the most important cases one should know as a student, citizen, or wanna-be intellectual elitist. What I didn’t add is that the book I initially set out to write was this one. It was simply too big of a task at the time, besides which I couldn’t actually figure out if anyone would want to read it or not. (That’s not the only reason to write, of course, but it’s certainly a consideration – at least for me.)

So, I chose to instead focus on something that would easily serve a wide variety of readers wanting or needing to know more about multiple cases but lacking the time or motivation to get too academic about the whole thing. Presumably there are folks out there relieved to let me boil things down for them so they can get on with their lives.

This book is far less general. I’ve tried to summarize and contextualize the most important and interesting cases in the history of the Supreme Court related to church-state issues in education. It’s an endlessly complex and fascinating topic, and I’ve done my best to present each case fairly while retaining some of the passion I feel along the way. I won’t claim this is an entirely “balanced” treatment, but I’ve made every effort to be historically and intellectually honest within the limits of my own convictions (which will no doubt be easily discernible to attentive readers).

There are so many ways to approach almost any topic related to the Supreme Court or its cases. I’ve tried to avoid getting bogged down in procedural matters or terminology unless essential to a specific case. Similarly, I’ve shied away from extended explorations of originalism vs. the “living constitution” approach, judicial activism vs. judicial restraint, etc., although each will pop up in relation to specific cases or written opinions here and there. As a long-time history teacher, I’m a bit more susceptible to contextual rabbit holes, but I’ve tried to keep the focus narrow enough to remain useful for the average reader. Maybe even engaging.

The tricky thing about that, of course, is that the historical roots of the First Amendment and the twin religion clauses with which it begins are undeniably relevant to how they have been and should be understood and applied. As I once told students, there are two things we must always remember about the study of history. First, people throughout time and across the globe were in almost every important way just like us. Let’s not overly idealize, demonize, or otherwise mythologize them. Second, the lives and perceptions of people in other times and places throughout history were nothing like ours (in many important ways, at least). There’s no point claiming we can ever fully understand how they felt or why, or what they thought their words and actions truly meant.

Yes, these are essentially opposites. That doesn’t mean either one is incorrect.

Did our Founders and Framers believe in absolute separation of church and state? Not in the modern sense of the phrase, no – not most of them, anyway. For a full generation after the ratification of the Constitution and the Bill of Rights, the original states wrestled with how to best delineate an ideal relationship between church and state. Those pushing for less establishment (as understood at the time) largely did so out of the conviction that greater separation was best for true religion to flourish, and that only faith untainted by politics could provide the foundational morality essential for the republic to survive. Those favoring freer exercise of religion, or even various mechanisms allowing some state support of select institutions, wanted very much the same thing and for very similar reasons.

What most agreed on during debates over the Bill of Rights and throughout that first critical generation of new Americans was that religious division and strife were to be avoided – if not at all costs, then at something pretty close. Many recognized that they lived in an age of not only massive political revolution but of a potentially new approach to faith and humanity in general, and while it may not be clear what things should look like, they had plenty of examples of what hadn’t worked or wasn’t working. The age-old debate about original intent vs. changing circumstances is thus particularly problematic when it comes to church-state relations since it’s not at all clear the folks signing off on the original rhetoric were all that clear what it meant in practice even at the time – let alone a century or two later.

Did most of our Founders and Framers speak and write from a nominally Christian paradigm? It certainly seems so, yes. Before we get too excited about emulating this in the 21st century, however, we should keep in mind that it even the most tolerant among them were seriously uncomfortable with Catholics and largely excluded Jews and Muslims from the mix when speaking lofty thoughts about the role of religion in American life. Atheists simply weren’t included in the conversation as real Americans, and the only reason the Baptists were tolerated at all was that at least they weren’t Atheists.

In other words, it’s one thing to explore the context and expressed intentions behind our founding documents; it’s another to embrace their specific implementation and interpretation on the day they were first committed to parchment. Like Socrates, Hippocrates, or Hendrix, sometimes it’s the spirit of the thing more than the details of the moment that matter most.

There’s one other issue I figure I should at least address up front in hopes it will make me sound profound and thoughtful...

How does a nation of diverse backgrounds, races, religions, languages, political ideologies, and lifestyles hold together? If the U.S. was to some extent built on a rejection of “the old ways” – the biases and bondages considered normal across most of the civilized world for many centuries – what do we embrace in their place?

We love talking about America’s “great melting pot,” but implicit in this analogy is the idea that ingredients are intended to become more or less indistinguishable – to end up tasting all the same. Most of us would defend individuality and cohesiveness (or “domestic tranquility,” if you prefer) in equal measure, but these two things actually pull against one another – sometimes dramatically. Like freedom and security they may both be worth defending, but doing so requires we first recognize that neither naturally compliments the other.

Such has been the nature of society since its beginnings. Most political scientists and historians will tell you that the foundation of civilization is the “social contract.” While definitions vary, the basic idea is that at some point people with absolute freedom (think running naked in the woods with a pointy stick in one hand and a dead squirrel in the other) came together and agreed that each would sacrifice a degree of personal freedom for the good of the whole. This is not done from altruism; each member is part of that whole that shares in the benefit. The birth of agriculture allowed specialization and diversification so that while some people still grew food or hunted game, others could focus on arts, crafts, warfare, architecture, philosophy, or entertainment.

In modern times this means we can all have different jobs and simply buy the stuff we need to live – food, shelter, streaming services, etc. It also means that I’ll sit at a red light for what feels like hours even when no one else is at the intersection because I expect you to do the same – and both of us consequently feel safer going through that intersection once the light is green. Freedom and society are not natural allies. It makes sense that trying to maintain both of them in such a large, diverse nation would prove problematic from time to time.

One institution with the potential to offer some sort of national bonding in the 21st century is public education. I’m not suggesting it’s the only answer or even the best at it in practice, but I will insist it should be pretty high on the priority list. Whatever else education can or should do for our national experiment to survive, it must help us do a better job of understanding each other and the issues confronting us as a people – whether scientific, cultural, ethical, political, economic, or anything else. It should offer us the tools necessary to succeed collectively as well as individually, and to embrace our differences without necessarily sacrificing our own sense of self or our collective understanding of right and wrong.

And yeah, it would be ideal if we all emerged a little better at reading, writing, math, science, and history while we’re at it.

The chapters can be read in order, straight through, which creates something of a natural narrative along the way. Or, if you prefer, you can refer to Appendix A for a general clumping by subject matter and hunt down the cases of most interest to you at the moment. The major chapters are numbered, and the “Worth A Look” cases inserted more or less chronologically among them. I’ve included edited excerpts of majority opinions, as well as a number of concurrences and dissents, which you can read, browse, or skip as you see fit. I respectfully suggest, however, that despite all the gravitas and history-shaping rhetoric, most make for a pretty good read. You were smart enough to buy this book; you can handle a little jurisprudential exfoliating. I’ve done my best to maintain intellectual and legal accuracy while at times taking liberties with the formatting and endless footnoting and internal citations and such in order to maintain flow and clarity. Appendix B has a list of some of my favorite books and resources in case you find yourself interested in learning a bit more or arguing with me about how badly I’ve misunderstood or distorted everything important about America.

Speaking of which, I’d love to hear your thoughts or opinions if you find yourself so inclined. You can find me at bluecerealeducation.com or email me anytime at BCE@BlueCerealEducation.com. Happy reading.