Four New Reasons I’m Not Bitter AT ALL: Clio Cloud Conference, 2018

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.

Motherfuckers.

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

Freaky Friday: Murders are not Defects – The Case of Milliken v. Jacono, et. al.

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?

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A Desert Devoid Of Aptitude: The Death of Arizona Summit Law School

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

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Free Speech Friday: The First Amendment – One Sentence, 10,000 annotations

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

U.S. Const. Amend. I

Welcome to the first of a new monthly series here on Lawyers & Liquor, which we’re calling “Free Speech Friday.”  I’m your host, the Boozy Barrister.  Over the next however long it takes us, we’re gonna take one Friday a month to discuss legal issues of free speech and constitutional law here, both areas that I, as a shitty shit lawyer in Shitadelphia, Shitsylvania am not overly familiar with.  So, this will be a learning experience for both of us, as Boozy pursues edification and then, like the loving momma bird that I am, promptly turns to vomit up the knowledge into your eagerly cheeping mouths.

Yes, I know, that’s probably someone’s fetish.  Put it back in your pants, Pete.  We got law to talk about.

More specifically, we have one specific law to talk about, being the First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States.  You can see the whole fucking text of the thing above, one sentence that lasts 45 words and has caused more goddamn trouble to the courts than anything else.  One sentence that has been used to guarantee the rights of everyone from activists marching for racial equality to assholes picketing funerals.  45 words that have been interpreted to allow folks to spout 14 words in city center when they seek to do so.  Often contentious, and always loud, the First Amendment is, as author and Huffington Post journalist Naomi Wolf said, “designed to allow for disruption of business as usual. It is not a quiet and subdued amendment or right.”

In other words, it is the right to be fucking loud and, in general, do so without fear of restriction from the government.  But how, exactly, did we come about gaining that right, written into the very foundational documents of our nation’s history?  And why?

That’s what we’re talking about today on Free Speech Friday:  the birth of the First Amendment and the why of why we have it.  So sit back, grab some popcorn, and let’s get going with an impromptu legal history lesson.

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Now, You Wait: Things To Do After the Bar Exam

Good morning (or afternoon, or evening, or even sometime three years from now when you locate this site through googling something like “Car Sex and the law”) folks and welcome back to another glorious Monday morning here on Lawyers & Liquor.  I’m your asshole host, the Boozy Barrister, and I wanted to start off today by give a shout out to all of the Patreon Patrons that are out there for the site.  What better way to do that than to give you the link to the list of Patreon Supporters for the site, which will be updated later tonight to include every single person that gives any amount of money to Lawyers & Liquor, and will be a part of every single unsponsored post on the site (and, if I can get it together with the sole sponsor who pays for space, on the sponsored Furry Friday Posts as well).

Thank you folks!  We’ll be updating the list tonight and tomorrow to make sure all of you are on that list, and after that it’ll be maintained going forward by the best assistant I could ask for: someone other than me!

Now that the schmaltz is out of the way and I’ve somewhat weakly implied how much I love you folks for giving me money to write this shit, let’s direct this directly to the young wanna-be lawyers out there that spent a portion of last month suffering through the bar exam.  As you may know, last month the poor bastards that sacrificed their lives and sanity to the law when they decided, like the true fuckwits they are, to wander into a law school in their big boy pants and scream “I wanna be a lawyer!” took the one exam that decides whether or not they wasted three years of their lives instead of just making bad decisions.  That test is over, it’s done with, and they (for the most part we assume) survived it in something close to one physical and mental piece.  At least, outside of a leaky ceiling out in Colorado that paused the examination while they got it sorted out, I haven’t heard or read of any major issues outside of the general collection of anxiety attacks.  Which are normal.

And they’re going to keep going, because, historically, you little shitstains have at least two months of wondering if your bright new career in the practice of law can begin or if you’re going to wind  up curled in a ball in the shower clutching a Kaplan coursebook and sobbing uncontrollably as you talk about the Dead Man’s Statute.

…Why don’t we try to give you some things you can do while you’re waiting, eh?  So, without ado, here are Boozy’s Four Tips for Post-Bar Exam Sanity!

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