It’s Black Friday. Because nobody seems to be posting much of anything, and I post on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday with substantive updates, here’s a song that, even as a liberal, I’ve always loved. I’ll see you guys Monday.
So, it’s Thanksgiving. As it’s Thanksgiving, I’m going to forgo a diatribe about some ridiculous shit. Instead, I’m going to list seven things that I, as an easily amused and often inebriated attorney, am thankful for.
I got to thinking yesterday about problem clients.
Maybe it was just on my mind, maybe it was the client who sent a four page diatribe about the status of their cases with me, maybe it was the fact that we were out of coffee that morning and I couldn’t find my cigarettes. Whatever the case may be, I found myself mid-morning with my head in my hands as I furiously chewed on pen caps and muttered things about fleeing to Mexico and joining a less stressful and more profitable profession.
Like running drugs for a cartel.
Recently, this gem popped up on my Twitter feed:
Millennials on your jury? Glenn Kuper says, “Don’t panic. But do adapt.” https://t.co/KJrGC9YA0G
— Tsongas Consulting (@TsongasConsult) November 7, 2016
This tweet is like an old white man turning his hat backwards when his van gets lost in East St. Louis, looking at his passengers, and saying “I got this my homies”:
It doesn’t instill confidence the poster knows what the hell they’re talking about, and you’re pretty sure someone’s getting stabbed before the whole thing’s over with.
Wait the author of this article is Dr. Glenn Kuper? Well. I take back everything I said.
Leaving aside the fact that jury consultation and “scientific jury selection” has very little, if any, empirical evidence that shows it to be more effective than the common sense and experience of a skilled trial attorney, the Tweet from Tsongas still rankles the hell out of me. Why?
Because I’m a fucking Millennial, apparently.
What happened this weekend? Well, Trump supported safe spaces, people decided that forcing baristas to say Trump’s name was somehow a punishment, Ted Cruz still looks like Cousin Eddie, and, because even in the fever dream that is 2016 we need some hope, I watched Band of Brothers for the 18th time.