Jesus christ, somebody call Animal Control, it’s InkedFur’s Furry Friday again here on Lawyers & Liquor. This means that as I’m writing this I have the strange and discomforting sensation that only comes from knowing there are a thousand fursuited eyes reading every word, never blinking…never blinking. While I’m recovering from that mental image, take a mosey over to my sponsor, InkedFur.com, and see what they have in stock for all you sick puppies.
So you may remember back when I first stepped into the steaming heap of dogshit that led me to interact with the furry fandom in the first place I watched a little documentary called Fursonas. There was a lot to unpack in that little show, but one character/person that stuck with me through it was Gary Guy Matthews, a/k/a “Boomer the Dog” . To put it politely, Boomer is…eccentric. He’s been all over the media, I’ve found, and generally speaking is a fully grown man who not only has developed a fursona, but lives the general life of a giant fucking dog. The guy has a fursuit that he made and maintains completely out of shredded paper. He said in an interview that he has a doghouse he sleeps in.
I gotta say, I’m both a little stranged out and filled with respect for the dedication that Boomer has here.
But the pinnacle of eccentricity comes back in 2010, when Boomer petitioned the Court of Common Pleas of Allegheny County to change his name legally from Gary Guy Matthews to Boomer the motherfucking Dog. The court, of course, said “What the hell?” and denied the name change. Boomer, however, appealed the matter to the intermediate appellate court, the Pennsylvania Superior Court, which then stood firmly behind the trial court on the matter and affirmed the denial of the name change.
I…well shit guys, I gotta say…I don’t really agree with the reasoning there.
Continue reading “InkedFur’s Furry Friday: In re Boomer The Dog (An Argument for Boomer)”
So on Tuesday I talked about how lawyers shouldn’t trust their clients to dress themselves for court. That’s actually a good bit of common sense for any attorney out there, and for those of us who have had clients that we’ve represented in court was likely met with a resounding “No shit? You mean the guy who tried to sell weed to a cop who was in uniform shouldn’t be trusted to make good life decisions? Tell me more!”
Thanks for that vote of confidence. Look guys, they can’t all be on the best topics in the world. Sometimes you have to remind people that clients, left unattended, may decide to wear hot pants to see the the judge. Shit like this happens, I thought it was worthwhile.
Of course, the problem of dressing poorly for court doesn’t just extend to clients. It extends to lawyers as well, but in a somewhat more unique manner.
Continue reading “Lawyers Can Dress Themselves: The Attorney Situational Dress Code”
Lawyers as a rule can at least figure out how to dress themselves. It’s actually one of the few things we do learn in law school, how to present ourselves to the court and others with the required amount of professionalism. I mean, that isn’t to say we didn’t occasionally go to class in pajama pants and a wife-beater with a Big Gulp of coffee and whiskey to carry us through the hours of Torts and Contracts that got shoved down our throats. We definitely did. But when the rubber met the road, we at least scraped together enough money for a cheap-ass suit because we knew that, to at least some degree, appearance matters.
I mean, for the most part we do. Except for that one motherfucker who went to court dressed like Thomas Jefferson, but he isn’t a lawyer anymore. Plus, in the case where he dressed up like Thomas Jefferson he was representing himself, and any lawyer can tell you that dressing like an idiot for court is a grand client tradition.
Clients, bless their brainless fucking heads, apparently don’t grasp this concept. Take a look at any of those “hahaha FUNNY, now click one of our 100 ads” websites and you’ll find a section dedicated to people who wear stupid shit to court. Be it a famous actress wearing a goddamn blue wig to appear before the judge or a murderer being sentenced while wearing a shirt the reads “Genius,” I’m pretty well fucking convinced that clients have some sort of shadowy cabal where they all get together and think of the quickest way to give their attorney a heart attack before a court appearance.
For lawyers, this means we have to play a role in addition to counselor and advocate. We have to be a client’s goddamn fashion consultant.
Continue reading “Don’t Let Toddlers or Clients Dress Themselves”
Busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest putting out fires this morning. Here’s some music, the post for today will be up tomorrow.
What’s that? Among the cries of “Please MORE” and “Oh DADDY” the alarm clock is going off deep in the dark basement dungeon letting me know it’s time to bring out the gimp for another installment of Fetish Friday here on Lawyers & Liquor. So clench those cheeks tight, get the riding crops ready, make sure all sex swings are firmly attached to load-bearing joists, and let’s lube up and dive down the rabbithole to take a look at all things perverted and just a little darkly exciting this month as we talk about “interspecies erotica” and the considerations and complications that may arise therefrom.
Now, before we go too deep into the legal ramifications of giving a dog a bone, I want to be absolutely and completely clear: many times in these posts I tend to refrain from moralizing with folks. Generally, my statement is “If everyone’s consenting, it’s not illegal, and nobody’s getting hurt, fucking have at. None of my goddamn business.” This post is special, though, because we need to be clear on a couple important points before I even start tossing the kitty litter around: (1) for the vast majority of the readers out there, the activity I’m talking about today is fucking illegal. You can and will be arrested for being involved with it; (2) I’m of the personal opinion that an animal which cannot affirmatively state consent to a sexual act in a recognizable language can’t consent to playing “knick knack paddywhack” with you; (3) people can be hurt during this activity, people can die during this activity, and both of those fucking things have definitely happened. Given that the practice of beastiality and/or zoophilia involves an act that, when consumated, violates all of my “Big Three Don’t-Give-A-Fuck Requirements,” I’m gonna go on record to say the next part.
Don’t fuck your pets.
But illegal or legal, morally correct or incorrect, reprehensible or acceptable, this shit happens. So, to that end, we’re gonna go ahead and start talking about what happens when you believe your cat likes a little more than chicken and liver, and it ain’t Meow Mix you’re about to deliver.
Continue reading “Fetish Friday: Banging a Beagle Is Illegal (Zoophilia and the Law)”