A Lawless Land of Unicorns and Elves: A Lawyer Goes LARPing, Part 2

Hey, Welcome back to Lawyers & Liquor, the premiere home for the legal and not-so-legal profane ramblings of the Boozy  Barrister.  Today we’re going to keep going with my recounting of my recent descent into the world of NERO and LARP in general, specifically the NERO variant known as “Fables of Fenorra” in the lead-up to this weekend’s trip back out for my second visit to the mystical and magical world where, apparently, everything is falling apart and chaos reigns as we hit each other with foam weapons.

Before we begin, though, let me stress:  If you want to get in on the madness there is a Fables of Fenorra event going on this upcoming weekend at Eagle Pass Camp in Wales, Mass, ran by the guys over at Epic Adventures, LLC!  You can register at the door on Friday, June 15th, or online at the Epic Adventures website!  I’ll be there causing trouble as Dart the Cowardly Alchemist, and you should stop by if you want to figure this shit out for yourself.

So last time I talked about how I ended up getting sucked into agreeing to go to a LARP event, which if  you skipped over that entry is a “Live Action Role Playing” event where people beat the shit out of each other with padded weapons and act out characters in a complicated fantasy world.  This time, let’s just get right into meat of the thing:  How my adventures went.

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A Lawless Land of Unicorns and Elves: A Lawyer Goes LARPing, Part 1

Welcome to Monday here on Lawyers & Liquor, June 11, 2018.  I’m the Boozy Barrister and we’re gonna skew from the course of talking about the law and legal shit again today for me to tell you a story that I’ve been promising people I’d tell for roughly 7 months now.  But the whole purpose of this site is to speak to the muggles, the baby lawyers, and the law students of the world in a manner that can best be described as “uncouth” to educate and elucidate on topics of lawyering and various legal matters, so in some manner I have to tie that shit all together.

We can do that pretty fucking easy, though, because, as I said about a week ago, it’s important that people understand being a lawyer doesn’t mean you sacrifice all other aspects and hobbies you may have.  It also shouldn’t restrict you from going out and trying to find new ones.  And what better hobby is there for a lawyer to develop than going out into the woods every now and again and beating the living shit out of other people with sticks while pretending to be a bard or some shit?

Of course, I’m talking about LARP, and more specifically about the time I laid down the mantel of the Boozy Barrister to pick up the one of cowardly, craven, but slightly good-hearted man named Dart with the fine folks over at NERO Boston.

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Stop Being a Reptilian Overlord – Lawyers Can Be Human

Welcome to the Wednesday, June 6, 2018 edition of Lawyers & Liquor, your home for the very best in profane commentary on a variety of legally related matters.  I’m the Boozy Barrister, and you assholes need to stop taking yourselves so goddamn seriously.

Turn the fuck back now.  I’m warning you.

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Come on Arlene’s – A second bite at the apple in the wake of Masterpiece Caskeshop

Yesterday was Gay Wedding Cake day in the lawyer world.  If you’re not really sure what I’m referring to, I’d like to congratulate you on finding a new home under that rock.  I hopes it’s spacious and has great wifi reception.  For the rest of us that live in the real world, like the poor bastard behind the keyboard at Lawyers & Liquor, the internet went nuts when the news of the Supreme Court’s ruling of the case of the baker who refuses to be a Marie Antoinette-esque figure to LGBTQ+ couples and demands that they not eat his cake set the world aflame as people tried to read into its meanings.  It was so bad that mere moments after the opinion was released I was fielding a phone call from a senior partner at my office who wanted to talk about it – meaning he wanted me to read and summarize it for him.

Most of the talk, though, was people desperately trying to find meaning in an opinion that never once really touched on the primary issue before it.  Instead of talking about whether the butcher, the baker, and the leather gear maker have a right to deny service to literally anyone in the world they want by screaming “But my Jesus” and locking the doors at the mere sight of a rainbow, SCOTUS punted the ball.  The Supreme Court issued a narrow ruling that applied to only that one set of facts, said “Fuck all of you waiting to hear if we’re about to descend into madness,” and based their ruling off of the baker not getting themselves an impartial tribunal at the first level in this shit.

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Freaky Friday: The Westfield Watcher Is Not A Material Defect

Welcome back to Freaky Friday here on Lawyers & Liquor, where the crypt door to the unholy filing room has swung open and the little ghosties and ghoulies from all over have crept out to serve summons in the dead of night.  I’m your ghost host, the BOO-zy Barrister, here to talk about the creepy, paranormal, and downright weird areas of law that others seem to forget exist.  Or at least don’t mention, because as we learned about in the past, there’s a lot of stuff in law that we’re not going to tell you about when we’re taking on your case.  Like the fact that lawyers are essentially modern day vampires who suck your blood, but we don’t wear capes (okay, everyone except that one legal aid guy, but he’s a little strange and nobody sits next to him at bar functions anymore.)

Is that really an issue, though?  Not telling people shit? I mean, it’s like the biggest horror movie trope there is.  You don’t tell someone that the amulet you left them in your will is haunted by a demon that comes out at night to anally assault you without lube.  You fail to mention the cemetery that got paved over so your new house could be built on top of it.  Maybe you leave off the part about the family of stalkers that’s been watching your house for the last several generations and sends you letters demanding that you feed the home “young blood.”  It’s a trope, right?

You know, except for that last one.

That last one totally fucking happened in real life.

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