Welcome back to Lawyers & Liquor, the website where I genuinely don’t care what you think as I ramble about legal crap and try to impart a bit of wisdom to the Pampers-wearing pestilence that is the baby lawyer and the law student out there, as well as a healthy dose of spite for the experienced attorney who can find their way in the world. I’m the Boozy Barrister, and it’s Wednesday, October 10, 2018 as we enter the dark and depraved world of the recent bar admissions. To a lot of people out there that sat in a stuffy room during two to three days in July to take an exam, and then agonized through the months after, congratulations. You’re lawyers now. Or at least you will be as soon as someone administers the oath of office and character and fitness clears your baby-smooth bottoms for the practice of law. But don’t worry too much about that last point. If Michael Cohen can get a license to practice, so can you.
Instead, let’s take a moment and recognize that despite the fact you have a license to practice law, none of you really have any clue what you’re going to do next or how you’re going to do it. And you definitely lack the bare minimum of experience that turns the license to practice law into something other than a license to commit malpractice and take your client from a million dollar house on the hill to eating Vienna sausages and saltine crackers in the local trailer park, right? Right. Don’t even try that “getting offended” shit with me here. You still have concepts like “truth” and “justice” ringing in your fucking ears from all the idealistic law school professors that never once in their lives did a client intake. You, folks, are fresh-eyed and happy people. And I’m here to put an end to that shit right the fuck now.
So why don’t you little pricks settle into your high chairs and straighten the tie on your Baby’s First Real Suit as Boozy tells you some shit you need to know in the real world of the day-to-day shit lawyer. Because, brothers and sisters, it’s about fucking time someone did.
Continue reading “So You Passed The Bar, Part 1 – Still Not A Lawyer Yet”
You might remember around this time last year I talked a little bit about a conference full of lawyers in New Orleans, Louisiana who were gathering to trade practice tips and, I assume, laugh at all of us peons in the workaday world of shit law through their crystal glasses of champagne or whatever. You can read why I was totally not bitter at all about not going to New Orleans last year to rub elbows with the hobknobbery of the legal world here. Or you can just hang around on the site for about a minute or two because, once again, while the “who’s who” of the legal online world are gathered in the land of beignets and booze, I’m sitting at my desk drinking some horrible faux Dunkin Donuts bullshit and spending a morning being completely not bitter at all about not attending. Seriously you guys, not bitter AT ALL.
So excuse me as I top off my cup of coffee that’s exactly as bitter as I am not, at this moment, being. Give me a moment to suck on some lemons, just to get the morning off to the right start. Take a second to breathe as I shove a chaw of unsweetened cocoa powder into my upper lip like the chewing tobacco of the totally and completely not bitter at all attorneys of the world. And let’s look at why it’s actually a good thing that I’m not attending the Clio Cloud Conference in New Orleans for the 2018 year yet fucking again.
NO BITTERNESS AT ALL FOLLOWS
Welcome to yet another Furry Friday here on Lawyers & Liquor, where the multicolored menagerie turns the Boozy Barrister into a mad mustelid for one day out of the month in order to discuss a legal issue related to the fandom full of giant critters. So buckle up the harnesses, shine up the tags on your leashes, and sit down with a dog bowl full of coffee and stay as we dig into the intellectual property particulars behind one of the finest traditions of furry art: the adoptable character.
And how, at the end of the day, unless certain precautions are being taken by both the artist and the purchaser, the end product is essentially nothing that most people would think it is.
I’m the Boozy Badger, and this is Lawyers & Liquor’s “Furry Friday – Adoptables, How The Fuck Do They Work?”
Continue reading “Furry Friday: Adoptables, How The F*** Do They Work?”
Holy hell it has been a while. Let me take a minute and explain the long absence of the site, which is something that seems to be happening more and more often.
I work at a small office. This small firm has recently had some significant staff turnovers, including my paralegal and secretary, which means that my workload has significantly increased. As such, I’ve spent the past couple months putting out fire after fire as it rages through the pile of manila folders on the corner of my desk. However, unlike Rome under Nero, I’ve finally got that raging inferno under control! As a result, we’re finally ready to return to the regular updates here starting on Wednesday with a bullet in the chamber of our legal gun.
Thank you all for your patience on this!
Welcome to yet another Freaky Friday here on Lawyers & Liquor, where we explore the creepy, macabre, paranormal, or just plain strange shadows of the justice system. I’m you ghost host, the BOOzy Barrister, and today we’re going to deal with something more frightening than any possible ghostie or ghoulie out there. That’s right, today we’re going to talk about the required disclosures that a person must give when they’re trying to sell you a house, and what they may not have to tell you at all under the current law. Specifically, we’re going to talk about the Pennsylvania case of Milliken v. Jacono, and how the highest court of the Keystone State has ruled that a murder in your new starter home (and the subsequent haunting that followed) isn’t something you need to be told about.
Fucking comforting, isn’t it?