Dilution looked to be a potent weapon when Congress introduced it as § 43(c) of the Lanham Act in 1995. Indeed, some observers feared that it would be too potent (and in some contexts, such as cybersquatting, it successfully augmented traditional causes of action). But a series of court decisions, culminating in the Supreme Court's 2003 Moseley v. V Secret Catalogue opinion, weakened dilution protection so profoundly that what remained wasn't of much consequence.

Ever since the Supreme Court decided Moseley v. V Secret Catalogue, Inc. in 2003, an amendment to the Federal Trademark Dilution Act ("FTDA") has appeared inevitable. Congress almost certainly meant to adopt a "likelihood of dilution" standard in the original statute, and the 2006 revisions correct its sloppy drafting. Substituting a "likelihood of dilution" standard for "actual dilution," however, does not resolve a deeper philosophical question that has always lurked in the dilution debate: what is dilution, and how does one prove or disprove its probability?

Some have argued that the changes to the Federal Trademark Dilution Act (the "FTDA") embodied in the recently enacted Trademark Dilution Revision Act of 2006 (the "TDRA") threaten to infringe upon the right to free speech. This is simply not the case. The FTDA has always protected First Amendment rights, and the TDRA clarifies and strengthens those protections.

In our celebrity-conscious culture, the media serve as arbiters of fame. The editors of Us Weekly and People wield significant influence over public recognition of celebrities. Since the Federal Trademark Dilution Act ("FTDA") amended the Lanham Act in 1995, federal courts have adopted similar roles as arbiters of fame, determining which trademarks are sufficiently famous to receive federal protection against dilution.

The underlying principle of the Michigan Civil Rights Initiative (MCRI), adopted by state wide vote on 7 November 2006, is identical to that of the Civil Rights Act of 1964.

With the passage of the Michigan Civil Rights Initiative ("MCRI"), Michigan joins California and Washington to constitute the new post-affirmative action frontier. For proponents such as Ward Connerly, affirmative action is on the edge of extinction. Connerly plans to carry his campaign against what he calls "racial preferences" to eight states in 2008, scoring a decisive Super-Tuesday repudiation of a social policy that he portrays as the contemporary face of racial discrimination.

The ballots have barely been counted, but litigation to enjoin implementation of the now-codified Michigan Civil Rights Initiative ("MCRI") or at least limit its effect on admissions practices in Michigan 's universities is already underway. One of the primary arguments against the MCRI—and the basis upon which some plaintiff professors assert standing—is that students will suffer an impaired education if current admissions practices are discarded.

The University of Michigan has long been a place of important discussions about civil and human rights. On the steps of the Michigan Student Union, only a few paces from the Law School , lies an inconspicuous marker where then-President John F. Kennedy, Jr. dedicated the United States Peace Corps. During the Vietnam War, the University played host to significant protests that changed how we think about war and its consequences.

The Michigan Civil Rights Initiative ("MCRI") amended the Michigan Constitution to provide that public universities, colleges, and school districts may not "discriminate against, or grant preferential treatment to, any individual or group on the basis of race, sex, color, ethnicity, or national origin in the operation of . . . public education." We argue that, in addition to prohibiting the overt use of racial preferences in admissions, the MCRI also prohibits using racial proxies such as socioeconomic status or a "Ten Percent Plan" that aim to prefer minorities in admissions.