Dudes, the law can be downright creepy at times. I’m not talking about stuff like the fact Ted Bundy went to law school, lawyers who are rapists, or any of that sort of mundane shit. I’m talking about “a knock at the door of your cabin in the middle of the woods at 3:00 in the morning” creepy. I’m talking about being upstairs alone in the house and clearly hearing someone downstairs call your name. I’m talking about that feeling you get when you go into the basement for something and from one specific corner you get the feeling there’s someone standing there, staring holes of hatred in your back…but the corner is empty. Yeah, that’s the type of shit I’m talking about here.
This is the first Freaky Friday post here on Lawyers & Liquor, where we’re going to talk about some weird shit that goes down in the practice of the law, from cases that are mysteries on up to the paranormal. “Why are we doing this, Boozy?” I can hear you moan over the clanking chains, “Don’t we have enough themed shit to deal with already?” No, and fuck you. My blog, my rules, and my rules say now is the time we talk about ghosts and shit.
I’m sure you’re thinking, “How much of this shit can there be?”
Well, considering that one of the cases every lawyer learns declares a house to be legally fucking haunted, you tell me.
Continue reading “Freaky Friday: “Legally, Your House is Haunted.””
I am such a glutton for punishment. Last week I wrote about the furries, and now I’m speaking at a furry convention next week. My Twitter feed has been taken over by animals. Someone’s making a fucking fursuit. This is my life now. Seriously. This is my life now.
But it got me thinking: maybe I should make this a thing? I’m already locked into giving the furries (who are great fucking people by the way) one post a month focusing specifically on their legal issues, which we will call “Furry Friday” and will be doing on the last Friday of each month. Why not dive into some other shit on Fridays that nobody else in the blawgosphere is really talking about?
Hence what I am now calling “Fetish Friday,” the first installment of which is today and which will continue until morale improves in general. Third Friday of every month…which is today. And today, today I want to talk about something I read about on Twitter:
Master Slave Contracts. Because I fucking love contracts, and the fact these fucking things exist just blew my tiny little mind right the fuck away.
So, that said, let’s chat.
Continue reading “Fetish Friday: Not Bound to Be Bound – Master/Slave Contracts”
There’s an area of contract law that deals with voiding out contracts based on a mistake. Without going into too much detail, because I’m not trying to write a fucking hornbook on the subject, there are two types of mistakes: Unilateral Mistakes (one guy was a dumbass) and Mutual Mistakes (both guys were dumbasses). You can’t get a contract thrown out because you alone were a dumbass, you can get one thrown out because everybody was a dumbass.
This does not apply to the Pentagon, whose dumbassery is legendary and undeniable. The dumbassery of the Pentagon, it seems, is so enormous, so monumental, and so expected that it apparently is the legal duty of those under its command to expect them to fuck things up. Hence the reason that men and women who entered into contracts with it and gave due consideration in the form of years of their lives, their sanity, and their youth are being told those contracts are worth less than toilet paper.
Of course, the people telling them that are the same dipshits that spend thousands of dollars on a roll of Charmin, so at least there’s that.
Continue reading “Fuck You, Soldier, Pay Me.”