Checking Your Privilege, Part 2: Attorneys and Clients Can Sorta Talk Openly

Alright folks, so the last time we did this shit it was discussing the concept of a “privilege” in an evidentiary setting. I ran through the basic concepts of what a privilege is, how it must be asserted, who holds the privilege, and the effect of a partial waiver of the privilege. The general idea to take away from all that is there are these things called privileges that allows you to bitchslap the other side when they start coming after that sweet, sweet information they so desperately want, be it during trial or in the hell that is discovery.

Today we’re gonna go a little more in depth and talk about the Attorney-Client Privilege, what it means, and how it is asserted, as well as how you, as the shitheel lawyer in charge of the case, can try to keep that shit from getting into the fucking record in the first place. But first, a war story.

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Lawyers Don’t Judge: A Followup to Yesterday and Some Art

Whoa.  Just…Just whoa. So apparently I became popular with furries yesterday. The Twitter feed for BoozyBarrister is, in the words of Habeas Porpoise (whose blog you can find in the “Links” section), a “veritable fucking Noah’s Ark of animals.” There’s fan art that has been made (I’ll stick it in the bottom of this post), and apparently more fan art being made, and people are trying to talk me into attending conventions to ply me with booze and give drunken legal talks to rooms full of furries.

I’m fucking loving it.

However, it got me thinking about some shit, mainly about why a salty lawyer such as myself somehow obtained cult status within a community in the course of 24 hours, and how it came to pass that I’ve been adopted as some sort of unofficial mascot (is pet a better word? Am I their pet lawyer now?) for furries.  I raised this issue with a couple lawyers in our super-secret-chatroom last night, and got this response:

“I think this is a result of an often ostracized group feeling as if you’ve given them mainstream legitimacy in a way that doesn’t shame them for who they are,” responded one lawyer.

“Yeah, sure,” I answered, “But, you know, people are people.”

“Yes for sure,” he told me, “but they are a group that doesn’t get that sentiment. They’re pushed to the fringes of society and I can only assume when they get a little bit of legitimacy without being made fun of they’re thrilled.”

I then may have proposed writing something about fundamentalist, evangelical Christians to see if I could attract an equal number of them to the blog and Twitter, then try to broker some sort of Camp David accord between the Furries and the Freewill Baptists.  But you know what?  Fuck that noise. I’m gonna have a much more meaningful conversation, and it’s directed at my regular readers, what I can only assume are my now-Furry Masters, and anyone else out there who feels like they can’t just be who the fuck they are with a lawyer.

We’re your lawyers, and we don’t care.

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Arizona Summit Schadenfreude: Another Infinilaw Diploma Mill Goes Down.

OH MY FUCKING GOD I LOVE THIS SHIT!

So, today was supposed to be all about how to not be the fucking problem in negotiations, but you know what? Fuck that noise. We’ll get back to that shit later. I’ll bore you with all of that some other time, maybe tomorrow, maybe not. We got bigger fish to fry.

Namely how the ABA has decided they need to serve a purpose and started bitch-slapping the shit out of InfiniLaw! That’s right, fresh on the heels of sticking Charlotte School of Law on a probation that seems to be sounding the death knell of that outhouse turned law school, the ABA has tasted some blood and decided to unleash hell on yet another bastion of for-profit, corporate driven legal education. While the body of its sister institution isn’t even cold and is, in fact, still jerking through the final few throes of an inglorious ending, Arizona Summit has found itself sitting squarely in the sights of a now-hungry ABA board.

Oh God, I didn’t think I could get this erect.

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How to be Unexpected: Assessing the Social Media of an Unexpected Lawyer

Let’s talk Lawyer Websites again.

[First, let me say this to Portia Porter, Esq., whose book Alienation of Affections I have been promising to fucking review for two weeks:  I promise I’m doing it.  I swear.  I’m just in the middle of a mess of litigation and haven’t had the time to turn my thoughts into words.]

So, not too goddamn long ago I talked about two lawyer websites that hearken back to the heyday of Geocities.  That was fun, we talked about design choices and shit.  We also touched a little bit on how a website or internet presence can serve to brand your ass when it comes to obtaining clients and shit.  It was discussed, in a roundabout way, how having things like “I am a paragraph” appear on your website may take you from “competent attorney” to “can’t afford a goddamn website designer” in the eyes of a prospective client.

But what if, and stay with me here, what if your internet presence is so goddamn over the top that it’s ripe for critique?

One might even say unexpected.

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How To Fuck Up A Good Thing: After being heroes, Lawyers return to being walking jokes.

Hey, Assholes, remember a couple weeks ago when we were heroes?  Remember when the President put out an Executive Order that made the country gasp and resulted in people that had already gone through our vetting procedures being detained at airports and sent back abroad?  Remember how groups of lawyers headed to ports of entry, sacrificing their weekend to sit huddled in a McDonald’s working on drafts or staked out on the floor of the terminal?  Remember that sudden swell of pride you felt at being a member of a profession whose response to such a drastic measure was “Oh HELL no, hold my martini.”

Yes, for a very brief period of time lawyers weren’t the butt of jokes.  “What do you call 100 lawyers at the bottom of the ocean?” someone would ask mischievously.  “I don’t know,” you could respond, “but I know what you call 20 lawyers in an airport…FREEDOM!”  Then a bald eagle would land on your fucking arm as Lady Liberty and Lady Justice invited you back to their place for a no-holds-barred adult wrestling match in their bedroom.

It was great.

We’re well on the way to fucking that shit back up.

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