Four Hard Truths Behind Going Solo

Hey and welcome to Wednesday on Lawyers & Liquor, where the coffee flows like brown, muddy, too strong wine and the mumblings of the week have hit their zenith.  It’s all downhill from here, folks, and speaking of downhill, remember a while back when I told you about the times you should be looking to bail the hell out of your law firm?  No? Well, you can go read that little gem here.  In fact, I’d sort of suggest that you do that before we get the ball rolling here, because today we’re going to talk about the second half of the crappy “Should I Stay or Should I Go?” equation, which is “Can you afford to get out the door and go it alone?”

Sure sure, there are plenty of legal jobs out there in the world, if you particularly enjoy taking a pay cut or secretly trying to apply to other firms without the word getting back to the bosses that sign your paycheck that you’re in the market for a change.  I mean, just ask any recent graduate how many awesome jobs are beating down their doors to hire them.  I mean you could…hold on, let me take a look at my LinkedIn “Jobs For You” section…be a paralegal.  Or…a paralegal.  Oh, wait, here’s one for an insurance salesman.  Well isn’t that all just fine and fucking dandy, huh?  There are plenty of jobs out there for a lawyer looking to move around, so long as they don’t want to be a fucking lawyer.

So…maybe you should go solo then? Maybe you should snag the pictures from the walls and run  into the night, calling each of your clients individually to scream “I’m free, motherfucker! Follow me!” You can hang a shingle somewhere, be a real rainmaker. Right?

Oh you poor fucking fool.  I’m gonna give you Four Hard Truths about going solo, and you can see if you’re a smart man.

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Fetish Friday: Trademark Infringement and the ABDL Community, Part 2

Hey guys, we’re back for Part 2 of the Fetish Friday this week, and before we start doing a wrist deep dive into the world of Adult Baby/Diaper Lover Litigation, let me first apologize for my absence this week.  I’ve been busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest over the past week, rubbing hither and yonder to take care of some personal shit as well as juggling my case load, and it got in the way of getting this stuff out when I was planning to.  sincere apologies.

So, if you weren’t around last time, know that I started talking about Adult Baby/Diaper Lovers, a community shorthanded into “AB/DL,” and giving a brief overview of exactly what the hell that is.  But I’m not going to do that again here, because I don’t have the time of the inclination to spend an hour rehashing a post that’s already in existence.  Click back through and read that shit, okay?

The reason for that whole thing was, very recently, a lawsuit was filed by one maker of adult diapers against another, and it wasn’t about moving into the pull-ups line, turning off Thomas the Tank Engine, of anything of that nature.  Rather, it was a lawsuit about…trademark infringement. And that brings up an interesting question:  Do they have a case, or are they just being big  babies about all of this?

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Fetish Friday: Trademark Infringement and the ABDL Community, Part 1 – What’s ABDL?

Welcome to Fetish Friday on Lawyers and Liquor and oh my god I have learned so much about Adult Baby Diaper Lovers over the past 72 hours. Seriously, I have just learned so much. It is so damn interesting. I mean, it definitely isn’t my bag (no, no I do not need to try it to be sure, I get bothered by changing my kid’s diapers) but I had no clue how deep and complex the whole community of “ABDL” actually was.

I mean, honestly, when you hear “full grown adults who enjoy wearing diapers” you don’t actually think that it’s going to be some amazingly in depth area of study. You think it’s going to be about fucking. Because, as humans, everything at some point becomes about fucking for some people. And I’ll be the first to admit, that was flat out my thought process on ABDL until I started researching this article. “Self,” I muttered, “we’re about to go down a very unsettling rabbit hole without a diaper genie in sight. Just remember your three rules.”

My three rules, by the way, determine if something ranks on my “give a shit” scale:

  1. Is it non-consensual?
  2. Is anybody being severely injured?
  3. Is it illegal?

If the answers to all three are “No,” then have at. You do you. It doesn’t affect me and it’s none of my goddamn business what you do in the privacy of your own nursery.

Instead…well, look, let’s just jump straight into this faster than I jumped off the changing table as a kid (ask to see my scar sometime).

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Like A Lamb to Slaughter – Are you being placed on the altar?

Well well, it’s Wednesday and once again I neglected to post jack on Monday. I’m a bad person. But I’m a busy person this time of year as cases keep piling up for low dollar amounts and the office is churning files to try and get things done. So it makes some sense I’ve missed a couple of posts here, among the other things that I have to do on a daily and weekly basis, and sometimes even a monthly basis, to keep a roof over the head and food in the fridge. Ain’t life a bitch?

So this week a few things happened that made me think: firms, especially big firms, really tend to take advantage of that “new associate” smell, don’t they? The new associate smell is sort of like the new car smell, except instead of rich leather and factory goodness, it’s a whiff of desperation mixed with a heavy dose of what pure anxiety and worry would smell like if it was distilled into a scent and called Eau de Associate. New associates are, by and large, the brand new bitches in a stable of abusive pimps known as the Senior Partners. And unlike Tony, the pimp with a heart of gold that cares for all of his “employees” and takes good care of them, thank you very much Daddy, law partners have absolutely no attachment to their associates when the fat gets in the frying pan.

Don’t believe me? File a meritorious and likely to succeed motion to sanction opposing counsel at some big firm and see who shows up. It sure as shit ain’t gonna be Mr. Senior Partner in his $2,000 handmade suit that’s been strutting his shit around the courtroom and depositions for the past several months. It’s going to be some harried looking kid, fresh-faced but quickly developing the thousand yard “oh shit” stare, that wanders in trailing behind their client. They’ll look like they’re about to wet themselves and soak straight through the off-the-rack Joseph A. Banks suit that they bought on sale (or that they bought a few months prior when they graduated law school). They’ll be wholly unfamiliar to you, and to the judge, and likely will have forgotten to do minor things like entering their appearance on the case. Everyone in the room, except the poor kid shuffling around in their far-too-optimistic litigation bag, will taste the tinge of blood in the air.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the sacrificial lamb.

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Freaky Friday: Silence of the Lamb Funeral Home

“Don’t tell me they’re not burning bodies. I was at the ovens at Auschwitz.”

Good evening, and welcome to another episode of Lawyers & Liquor Presents Freaky Friday.  I’m your host, the BOOzy Barrister, here to guide you through the dark world of human, and not-so-human, nature as we explore the paranormal, the macabre, the spooky, and the downright sickening aspects of the law. This month, we have a real treat for you, a home cooked meal if you wish, arising from the curious case of Pasadena California’s Lamb Funeral Home and its erstwhile owner, David Sconce, whose attempts to make it exceedingly clear “You can’t take it with you” led to a massive reform of the California mortuary laws and regulations.

And now, without further adieu,   let’s fire up the crematory ovens as we step back in time thirty years to sunny Pasadena, California and the Lamb Funeral Home, where in the depths of the ovens something sinister has begun.

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