Dear Marion,

Thank you very much for your very perceptive comments. Permit me
gently to insult you by telling you, I wasn't absolutely sure you
had it in you. Shakespeare, as always, has the last word. The
Merchant of Venice does say it all. But dialectic works! Of
Shakespeare's plays, the Merchant is at once the most cruel -
in its anti-semitism, - and the most humane - in its account of
the willingness of Antonio to sacrifice himself for his friend, -
and the wisest - in that it anticipates by 250 years with the
parable of the three caskets, Kierkegaard's discovery (in Either/Or)
that the inside is not the outside, that the distinction between
objectivity and subjectivity is absolute.  Moreover dialectic also
works in that you have it backwards! Not mine, it's Kimberly's middle
name which is Shylock, the pound of flesh that Kimberly wants to cut
out of my life is the plumbing which I have installed with such 
diligence and affection, plumbing which history has transmuted into
an organism of much emotional and legal significance.  Look again at
the tissue (Gewebe) of pipes. Then remember the the argument:
"
_  PORTIA. Tarry a little; there is something else.
_    This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood:
_    The words expressly are 'a pound of flesh.'
_    Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh;
_    But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed
_    One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods
_    Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate
_    Unto the state of Venice."

Moreover, the blood in 2009-P-1613 of which Kimberly Shylock may not
shed a drop, is not to be construed as the pure Nantucket well water
that had been circulating through the pipes, if only because that
water has long since been drained. The sacred substance which
Kimberly may not violate is due process. The spirit of lawfulness
is inherently inseparable from the Constitution in its identity with
due process of law. Accordingly, to preserve literary analogy and
gender identity, my name is Portius.

No, on second and third thoughts, the risks of offending the Court
that I have taken, seem reasonable. Most likely the saying: "Auf einen
groben Klotz gehoert ein grober Keil" never echoed as far as
1781 Riverside Drive. Literally: It takes a coarse wedge to split a coarse
log.  What I mean is that for five years the Superior Courts (Nantucket
and Suffolk) have taken in stride the criminal conduct of the Town, -
its calculated obstruction of justice, its fabrication of evidence,
its forgery of official records, its falsification of the minutes of
official meetings, its interception and purloining of mail addressed
to the court, and the concealment of evidence by the Town and its lawyers.
I litigate always on the premise that the ultimate function of law is
to secure itself, that the ultimate role of the courts is the preservation
of their own authority and power. By definition then, there must be a
juncture at which a judicial system can no longer tolerate illegality
without risking its own dissolution. I have been deliberately amplifying
the (criminal) misconduct of Nantucket in an attempt to persuade the Court
that this critical juncture has been reached, that Nantucket's misconduct
is a threat to the Court's authority; and I am the first to admit that
I may lose my gamble. But the court's identification of its authority
with the authority of its fellow governmental institutions, i.e. the
Attorney General and the Town of Nantucket, is so strong, that the
court will never decide in my favor, no matter how likeable I appear,
no matter how much they'd enjoy sharing a beer with me, unless it feels
its authority threatened by my adversaries. And even if my speculation
fails, says the peacock, defeat will be less bitter if I can't blame
myself for having been unnecessarily restrained, - rather than the
converse.

Portius