#Legal Precedent.

[seemabhatnagar]

"Lucknow High Court Upholds Insurable Interest Despite Pending Vehicle Transfer"

The right to claim insurance is not negated till the ownership is formally transferred.

The High Court upheld the Permanent Lok Adalat’s decision and held that the Respondent-Govind Gupta retained an insurable interest in the truck, despite the pending transfer to Sanjeev Kumar.

Background

Govind Gupta, the owner of a truck insured by New India Assurance Company for ₹13,00,000, filed a claim after the truck was involved in an accident on November 1, 2020. He submitted repair bills amounting to ₹4,85,768. The insurance company rejected the claim, citing the truck’s transfer to Sanjeev Kumar, who was paying the loan installments but had not formally transferred the vehicle.

The New India Assurance Company Limited, Lakhimpur Kheri v. Permanent Lok Adalat, Lakhimpur Kheri And Another

WP 3907/2024

Before the Allahabad High Court

Heard by Hon'ble Mr. Justice Subhash Vidyarthi J

Legal Issue

Whether the Respondent - Govind Gupta, having transferred possession of the truck to Sanjeev Kumar through an agreement but without formally completing the ownership transfer, retained an "insurable interest" in the truck, making him eligible to claim insurance?

Argument of parties

Petitioner's Argument (Insurance Company)

Since the petitioner had transferred possession of the truck to Sanjeev Kumar, he no longer had an insurable interest, making him ineligible to claim compensation.

Respondent's Argument (Govind Gupta)

The formal transfer of the truck had not yet occurred, as the loan, had not been fully repaid, and he remained the registered owner.

Court's Observation

Under Section 157 of the Motor Vehicles Act, 1988, the transfer of ownership and the insurance policy are deemed to transfer together, provided the ownership is legally transferred.

In this case, the truck had not been formally transferred, as the loan repayment was still ongoing.

Seema Bhatnagar

[therobotmonster]

The Fae Thought He Had Her, but She's Had Lots of Practice

Actual Title: "On Foreign Soil."

The fae was having a grand old time with his latest toy. Mortals were easily befuddled with the magic of contract-and-courtesy. He'd taken pretty much all he could from the family: several names, the mother's attention, the son's concept of friendship... Even the life of the father.

He'd taken that one taking just the right moment of his time, the one where he moved just out of the oncoming car's path. That also took out the youngest daughter and making a new neverwas to lurk in the pockets of lost time around the home.

The tricks made him strong. The sense of betrayal and regret humans had when they realized how screwed they truly were was like honey: rich, sweet, and immune to spoilage. If anything, in the last sixty-some-odd years he'd been home the humans had gotten more petulant and even easier to trick.

It was a veritable buffet.

So when the eldest daughter returned home from college, he expected her to be easy pickings. The young were always foolish and prideful, and very often rude. They gave him so many opportunities.

So when she threw open the door, and stared at him with cold green eyes, he immediately laughed in delight. His face took on a distinctively 'David Bowiesq' aspect, a trick he found worked well the last time he'd been to the mortal lands.

"Oh, hello. May I have your name, lass?" He cooed in a cocky-yet-soothing voice.

"My name is Alex, and no." She said.

He raised a brow. She was canny, or at least half-canny. She knew enough to object to him taking it. Still, she had answered, and by the laws of the fae, the latter objection did not override the former offer.

So why wasn't he Alex now?

It was odd, but sometimes mortals were a little resistant to magic. He worried for a moment she was a skeptic, but she couldn't be. Her response meant she knew, or at least suspected, what he was. Moreover, he didn't feel the painful chill and sluggishness empiressence caused, nor the crushing weight of the explicable upon his bird-hollow bones.

No, she was just lucky, or was carrying an iron horseshoe, nothing he couldn't handle in his, or someone else's sleep.

"And what the fuck are you calling yourself, asshole?"

He blinked.

The impudence hit him like a slap. She'd just given him the opening to do anything he wanted, but the raw temerity of the insult, it's artless crudeness, it's utter lack of respect stunned him too much to enjoy it. His rage and petulance rushed into the hole left by his shock, and he sputtered.

"You rude little beast, you have no idea what you've brought upon yourself!"

He raised one pale hand, the flesh fading from it to leave nothing but blackened bone, and he pointed the index finger at her in a silent gesture. He let fly his curse. Not just any curse, but his, the one he had made for just such an occasion.

Alex stared at him. Arms crossed. Her hair was the color of the fae's own rage.

"What's the matter, cat got your brain?"

The fae's confidence wavered and the flesh returned to his hand.

"Where are the spiders?" He said. "There... there ought to be spiders! There should be spiders!"

She rolled her eyes.

"You broke the laws of courtesy and decorum! I can do as I please as a wronged noble! You should be spiders!"

"Whose laws?" It was Alex's turn to smile.

"Why, the only ones that matter, the laws of Faerie, as laid down by Oberon and Tita-"

"And Titsforbrains, yeah. I was five once and I can read. I know your dumb politics. Slight problem. Where are you now?"

"The mortal realm?"

"More specifically?"

"The Earth. The United States."

"Exactly." Alex smiled. "And while you might come the land of the platonic ideal of inbred nepobabies, in the United States of America, no law says I can't call a fuckface a fuckface. Fuckface."

The fae tried a different curse, yet Alex was not being twisted into any sort of goat, ironic or otherwise. "But, that doesn't matter! We're a higher form of being, our laws override yours."

"No they don't." Alex said with a confidence reserved for honey badgers and humans of age three. "Now undo all your bullshit and get out of my house."

"Nuh-uh!" The Fae's cocky smirk returned. With a flourish, he pulled out a deed. "It's my house, I got it off your mother, fair-and-square. She traded it for the heart your little brother so foolishly traded me. So you should get out of MY house."

"Contracts signed under duress are non-enforceable." She said in a bored, dismissive tone.

The Fae started to object, but the contract was already crumbling into dried daffodil petals in his hand. He tried to pretend this wasn't terrifying. Inexplicable happenings were supposed to be caused by him, not happen to him. "Are you a wizard?"

"Don't be stupid. I just know my rights." She said. "I'm betting you didn't disclose the full terms of the contracts either?"

The Fae shook his head, more from fear than as a response to the question. Of course he hadn't. If the mortals didn't do their due diligence and couldn't read Linear-B, that wasn't his fau-

The thirty years he stole from the youngest boy ripped themselves out of his body. A half dozen other deals began popping at the seams.

"How are you doing this?" He gasped.

"I'm not doing it. You are. You're idiot who runs on rules and laws who decided to come scam innocent people for your own profit and amusement."

"But it always worked before-" The Fae ran his mind through all his previous romps. Every single human had whined and begged about how unfair things were. Why was this one different?

He ran through those memories again. They were among his favorites so it was easy for him to see every detail. An old man trying to argue Fae law with him. A shepherd girl trying to use her own word games to trap him. A hippie saying almost the exact same words about non-enforceable contracts.

Almost.

He ran through the memories again and again. Always impressed or terrified or blinded by greed, the mortals always argued on his terms, always went back to his wording of the deal or contract, always appealed to the laws of his people and his own noble position.

None of them had ever argued jurisdiction. Once one of them had, it applied, not just now, not just to these toys, but retroactively, and, from how it felt, with interest.

"Oh." Was all the Fae could say.

"Yes. 'Oh.'" Alex smiled like the cat that ate the proverbial canary. "Children can't sign contracts, either, you know."

Everything the Fae had done to the boy snapped back at once. It felt like every seventh tendon in his body had been snipped simultaneously with tiny scissors.

"Nor can someone sign away the right to kill them to someone else, or sell themselves or others into slavery."

Alex's father reappeared in the living room, looking dazed. In his lap was Alex's youngest sister, now remembered by all present as a person that existed. The return of the father's moment was a minor loss, but there was one less neverwas in the Castle of Paradox, and the Baron would blame him for its unmaking.

"Also, names aren't transferable between people, nor are they the whole and sum of a person's identity in this country. The closest thing we have to that is a social security number. And if you steal one of those, well, identity theft is a crime here."

Mr. Baxter, Mrs. Baxter, Julie and Sam's lights all turned on at once, though they were still groggy and half-asleep and would be for hours to come.

A fortune in names, first, middle, last, with nicknames and pet-names and all between, all vanished from the Fae's purse. He could feel its lightness in his pocket.

The Fae turned on his heels. "I fear I must take my leave, so sorry for the inconvenience!"

He was halfway to the door. The impact on the back of his skull knocked him forward off his feet, sending him slamming into the polished wood floor. The projectile that laid him out bounced and landed by his head.

He'd been right about her having an iron horseshoe.

"You don't get to walk away." She said. He felt her steel-toed boot, soles made of entirely synthetic rubber and cleats of cold steel, press against the base of his spine. His hollow, bird-bone spine. "You don't get to fuck with people, say 'my bad' when you get caught, and run."

"Y-your law!" He gasped. He felt his bones cracking. He wanted to turn into something else but he couldn't focus. She was pressing down harder now, because she was half-kneeling. Her hand picked up the fallen horseshoe. "You have to let me go, or arrest me, turn me over to your police, right? You can't just murder me!"

"What are you?"

"I- I'm a Faerie of Arcadia, a sub-Prince of the House of-"

"So not a human. And not an animal." She kept him pinned.

"No!" He growled. Blood the color of an oil slick on the highway began to fill his mouth. The pain made him forget his fear for a moment, and he bared his true face, something between a bug, a wax store mannequin, and a pug-dog. "We-we're a higher form of life! Far beyond anything this miserable pile of dung you call a planet has to offer! You will pay for this impertinence the moment you break the law that holds me!"

"You're a lot of things. A bully, a pest, a liar. But you're not human. And you're not an animal. In fact, as far as the laws of this land are concerned, you aren't real."

Alex lifted her boot to kick him onto his back, then pinned him again.

"Th-then you can't kill me!" He laughs. "You can't kill something that's not real! You've trapped yourself! You'll have to let me go!"

"You haven't been to our 'pile of dung' in some time have you?" Alex asked. She nodded to a strange white book-shaped object that sat unopened, upright, next to the television, next to a pair of white and black crescent-moon shaped objects studded with small white and black buttons.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

--

Six hours later, a notification popped up on Alex's dorm room computer.

[indecisiveavocado]

something terribly poetic about this

[davidaugust]

Congress and scotus and potus (both of them) messed up. Not only has this decision revealed issues and caused problems in and of itself, it also sets the stage for arbitrary removal of anything a potus doesn’t like.

[rockturbot]

The good old days when evidence law was still longer than three (3) pages😌

[democracyunderground]

[birdmenmanga]

new alex dia article dropped and first of all go off miss howard but like. is it just me or is it completely stupid that the US is trying to fund antitranshuman bioweapons at this point in time??? like... what's going on in the heads of the us politicians. if it passes it's going to 100% count as "acts of aggression" by the fucking bird treaty and then what? are they gonna firebomb the ny flocks??? be real. the US military can't win even WITH ath bioweapons it's just a matter of how many transhumans are gonna die at this point

full article under cut since it's paywalled (sorry it's just screenshots I'll add alt text when I get home)

[mindfulldsliving]

LDS Tithing Lawsuit: Financial Transparency, Community Trust, and the Stakes for Charitable Giving

A high-stakes court hearing this week has put the financial practices of the LDS Church under intense scrutiny. The allegations center on how tithing funds, donations, and investments have been used and reported, raising critical questions about financial transparency. This case matters, not just to members of the Church, but to anyone invested in the ethics and accountability of faith-based…

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Of the long-running ideas I posted about yesterday:

Book I'd Most Like to See on Store Shelves: Lily Between Worlds. It's got a solid character-driven story that could have a wide appeal within the more domestic side of the fantasy genre. It also feels like the most developed of my original ideas. The broad-strokes story is mostly there--I'd just need to develop the setting and culture--and I wouldn't need to do significant research.

Story I'd Write If I Could Only Write One More Story in My Life: Shadowstruck. The worldbuilding conceit is unique and the themes are important to me (though it's so personal that I can't envision it in wide release on bookstore shelves--at most an indie release for a targeted audience). I'd have to develop the characters more so I can make sure the story flows from them rather than from the message, and thus nail down the plot.

Story That Should Be Easiest to Finish: "The Dust That Falls From Passing Stars". It's a short story and I know the whole plot. If only I could find my way through the tricky second act.

[palms-upturned]

Outside of the United States, some unions and indigenous groups have come together as allies in combating the harms of capitalism and settler colonialism, recognizing the shared mission of unions and indigenous communities as power-building institutions. Solidarity is the core value of the labor movement; a motivating sentiment of organized labor is the conviction that “[a]n injury to one is an injury to all.”

This value is not always reflected in American unions’ relationships to Native nations. Using language that echoes countless employer reactions to union campaigns, the AFL-CIO has stated that it supports “the principle of sovereignty” for Native nations while advocating for the United States government to assert control over tribal-labor relations. Twenty-first-century American unions have positioned themselves as tools for combating racist power structures. Yet even as Native income per capita is less than half of the national average, unions have exploited fears of “rich Indians” to garner support from non-Native workers. And unions, through litigation, have encouraged and benefited from courts’ racist preconceptions of “Indianness” in setting the boundaries of acceptable exercises of sovereign power.

It does not serve the mission of the labor movement to benefit from these wrongs. As union leaders and labor activists fight for a world in which power is redistributed away from the hands of the few, solidarity requires that those efforts be situated within the broader context of genocide, systematic dispossession, and the destruction of Native sovereignty. When unions approach organizing in the tribal context as a fight over NLRB jurisdiction, they seek to build worker power at the expense of Native self-determination. But power-building is not a zero-sum game. By centering tribal organizing on disputes over Board jurisdiction rather than turning to tribal labor law as a first choice, unions miss the opportunity to engage collaboratively with Native nations to build institutions that better serve both.

Harvard Law Review, “Tribal Power, Worker Power: Organizing Unions in the Context of Native Sovereignty”

[gynandromorph]

I don't know if it was intentional on that Twitter user's part but that saying is a very very well known one in Judaism because it sets the precedent for pikuach nefesh (the preservation of human life) — "anyone who destroys a life is considered by scripture to have destroyed an entire world; and anyone who saves a life is as if he saved an entire world." However I can easily imagine Israel handwaving this by categorizing all Palestinians as rodef (pursuant/aggressor pursuing someone to murder them)

[davidaugust]

Edit: seems I fell for some bad information. The pardoning mentioned by George H.W. Bush and Jimmy Carter are errors: they did not pardon family (despite some articles from otherwise typically reputable sources saying so, like Esquire). I apologize and commit to being more careful about checking things before I share them. I’m sorry about this.

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

still baffled at the show using mihrimah to single out selim as a fratricide committer as if bayezid... wouldn't also have done the same thing to him? like are we expected to believe bayezid would have held a nice tea party if he had been the winner? and mind you isn't mihrimah accepting selim's death at bayezid's hands by supporting bayezid's plan to march on selim? why is selim considered the only morally heinous one? ofc fratricide is a terrible thing to do, but it's weird to see selim targeted as if he's the sole person to commit it when it's been protocol for several generations, and he and his own son (to say nothing of nurbanu) would have suffered the same fate if he hadn't been the one to come out on top

[noirandchocolate]

Listen. Percolating concepts and story-structure in my mind while I play a video game counts as writing.

Staring into space halfway through doing the dishes because a descriptive phrase came to me counts as writing.

Dissociating in the shower for fifteen minutes while arcane visions of conversations play behind my eyes counts as writing.

Communing with the miscreants in my head and receiving revelations about their thoughts and feelings about the events of their lives definitely counts as writing.

Sure my document is still nothing but intimidating white screen and lonely blinking cursor.

But I’ve been writing so much these past few days!

[shiominato]

yuzu emulator is dead and has to pay nintendo $2.4 million