Alright folks, it’s feeding time at the zoo with the first official Furry Friday.
A few notes before I get the ball rolling today. I’ll be appearing tomorrow at Furthemore 2017 to do an adults-only Q & A tomorrow night. I expect you all to be there and to bring questions that appropriately let me tell rambling stories filled with sauce and booze. Failure to do so will result in me simply reading War and Peace on stage for an hour and a half.
Now that’s out of the way, let’s cut into the meat of today’s fucked up foray into the furry fandom. So, earlier this week I was sitting around thinking about a post topic that brought up the perfect intersection of furries and law. There were a lot of suggestions, from “fursuit contracts” all the way down to a forensic examination of the “Boomer the Dog” name change issue, but I decided, based on the amount of love you assholes were pouring into my inbox and my direct messages, to take a look at some legal situations experienced by actual furries.
Each and every thing we’re going to look at today is an actual issue that has been faced by a furry in the past, which has implicated their participation in the furry fandom. These are all drawn from actual furries. The names have not been changed to protect the innocent, because none of your motherfuckers are innocent (Dudes…I found your porn), but I’ve excluded them nonetheless.
So, without further adieu, let’s look at how the fuck furries are getting fucked because they’re furries, okay?
So there’s a store now.
I ran an informal little Twitter poll last week to see if there was any interest in Boozy Barrister Badger shit. There was. This was run after a discussion with a friend of mine who’s a cartoonist, and who had experience drawing cartoon animals in the past, Ray Hubbard.
Ray’s an old friend of mine, we essentially grew up together. I was at his wedding. I’ve always thought he was an incredible cartoonist. He’s about as close to a known furry as I knew before all this (though I’m pretty sure he wasn’t one). So, after our conversation, Ray ginned up this:
(Continued Below the Cut)
Continue reading ““I’m a Big Ol’ Whore” : Boozy Introduces an Artist and Takes Your Money”
Now you know a little bit of the historical background of the legal profession, and know that we date back over two thousand years. Even as the Middle Ages stomped out scientific, cultural, and medical advances, it preserved the fucking lawyer nearly intact. The same bullshit systems that were in place under the Romans are still in place, and that’s not unexpected given the fact that lawyers, as a whole and individually, are about as likely to embrace change as Hitler would have been to appoint a Rosenbaum to his cabinet. We may not wear togas anymore, but we’re still the same goddamn profession people bitched about in Rome, and we always will be.
Still want to be a lawyer? Awesome. Spread your wings and fly, little fucking snowflake. I’m not gonna try to talk you out of it.
NOW LET ME TALK YOU THE FUCK OUT OF IT.
Continue reading “So You Want To Be A Lawyer, Part 2: You’ll Disappoint My Dad and be Poor.”
So I used to do Music Friday, where I subjected you guys to a song of my choosing from the Spotify library. However, with the new posting schedule that just ain’t happening.
But Tuesday Tunes can.
Here’s some James Taylor and Yo Yo Ma for you
Well, we’ve had some fun. Coming off of Fetish Friday and last week’s ramblings on non-profits and law school, I figured maybe it was about time I wrote something that had some bearing on the actual practice of…you know…law. Something that lawyers may actually like to read, because that’s the reason I initially started this shitshow of a website, to give profane and profound opinions and advice on the practice of law.
So, today I’m talking to you baby lawyers out there, you assholes with more ego than experience who are about to start forming a whole fuckin’ steamer trunk of bad habits that you’ll carry with you through the rest of your practice. This Bud’s for you, guys, now loosen up those ties that you’re paying way too much for, unbutton the jacket of that suit your Daddy bought you when you passed the Bar, and take a seat at Boozy’s feet to listen to me ramble about defending depositions.
Because, contrary to what a lot of fucking websites and lawyers will tell you, it is fucking important that you actually defend a deposition appropriately or risk looking like a goddamn moron.
Continue reading ““Put Your Phone Away:” 5 Tips For Defending Depositions”