Welcome to another beautiful week here in the wide world of litigation and small firm chicanery. I’m the Boozy Barrister, your guide through the minor hell that is the day-to-day practice of law in the real world, and this is Lawyers & Liquor, the internet’s equivalent of an overflowing septic tank of cynicism and legal ramblings.
You know what I hate? You know what really gets under my fucking skin and makes me see red, white and blue (because even my fuckin’ anger is patriotic as shit)? Those goddamn letters that you get from opposing counsel in a case where they spend the whole goddamn time posturing and pissing on you, blowing themselves up more often than a remedial school for suicide bombers. These letters are the legal equivalent of two pussywillow thin frat boys standing on opposite sides of a room and screaming “Come at me bro” while not struggling very goddamn hard to get out of the grips of Teddy and Chugs (named for his particular skill) because goddamn if that happened there may be a real fight. It’s a lot of chest-pounding with little to no payoff and they are goddamn ridiculous pieces of a puffery that every lawyer sees right through.
Continue reading ““CC: Client” – The Worst Form of Posturing”
Welcome to Freaky Friday on Lawyers & Liquor, the place where the demons of the legal profession and culture come out to play, and we’re not talking about malpractice and booze here. I’m your macabre mediator, the BOOzy Barrister, here to talk about the weird, dark, supernatural, paranormal, or just downright creepy aspects of the law, thanks to our sponsor for this post Quack Quack Honk Designs! If you get a second between the ghoulish and grim delights in store today in the crypt of the drunken asshole, feel free to swing on by and take a look at their store, their rates, and the art shows they’ll be showing up at to pitch their devilishly delightful designs to the putrid populace, including their appearance this weekend, October 21, 2018, at Crafting With Grace in Ann Arbor, Michigan!
Now that we’re done with the selling of my soul to the not-so-demonic devil, it’s time to dim the lights and drag the legal Ouija board from the closet as we summon up the spirits of Supreme Court Justices long past to talk about this month’s super-special Halloween Haunt in the world of law. And, this month, given that it’s the month of all those creepy stories, myths, and tales, we’re going to turn to the legal case that underpins one of the most enduring myths of Halloween – and one that’s made the sphincters of parents tighten for decades now as their child gleefully digs into a bag of candy. This month we’re going to talk about the case of the Candyman.
But first, a standard disclaimer.
Continue reading “Quack Quack Honk Designs Presents Freaky Friday: The Candyman Can.”
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 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?
You folks may remember not too long ago when I celebrated over the smoldering remains of Charlotte School of Law, a purely for profit enterprise of the wonderful bunch of bastards known as Infinilaw. Infinilaw, which is a for-profit “leader” in the world of shady law school education, is a wonderful set of functional assholes that looked at the model of training and educating the future gatekeepers of justice, tossed a guy with absolutely no legal training or experience in either the practice or education of law in charge, and then boldly went forward to bilk the fuck out of some students as it promised them the chance to become lawyers. It operated three law schools in the not-too-distant days of far off 2016, being the flagship Florida Coastal, the now-defunct and rotting Charlotte School of Law, and the amazingly inept Arizona Summit.
Now it operates, for all intents and purposes, one fucking law school. Because Arizona Summit, with less than two fucking weeks before the start of classes, sent a nice little email out to its students informing them that, no, Virginia, there is not a path to an accredited J.D. from them and therefore the school wasn’t going to hold any goddamn classes whatsoever starting in the fall of 2018.
Continue reading “A Desert Devoid Of Aptitude: The Death of Arizona Summit Law School”