DING DONG, BROTHERS! You kind and generous folks who have been putting up with my shit longer than a grizzled police detective has been on the force may remember last year’s antics over at the Charlotte School of Law, or as I’ve now dubbed it, “Charlotte House of Pancakes and Legal Learnin’,” an Infinilaw owned cesspool and boil on the butt of barristers the nation over! It really wasn’t that much of a thing, you know, just a little bit of old-fashioned chicanery that got them put on probation, had their ability to accept student loans revoked, and slowly became the death spiral of all times and a great example of how not to “cover your ass” by insulting students and generally sticking their head in the sand as the world falls apart around them.
However, boys and girls, the ride has come to a definite end now, as the Charlotte “I Can’t Believe It’s A” School of Law has now closed those doors forever. Yes, the storied and esteemed history of over six years of proving the ABA accreditation process is so lenient I could likely run a law school from a port-a-potty has come to an end. Having failed to follow the advice of legal ethics professors everywhere, namely “Don’t Miss A Goddamn Deadline,” not only once but twice in a time where the entire ability of this squad of for-profit fuck-ups to prey on those least likely to ever actually practice the goddamn law was dependent on not missing the goddamn deadline. This, combined with the fact that the ABA has now definitively stated they have had more than enough of Charlotte “Look Ma, I’m Lawyerin’!” School of Law’s shit, has led to the final closure of the law school.
So, here to do a moratorium and eulogy for the dearly departed Department of Dipshits that ran the place, let’s bring in the Right Reverend Boozy Barrister from the First Universal Church of Internet Lawyers.
Continue reading “Charlotte-an School of Law: A Eulogy”
Okay, so back in February I wrote about Tiffany Dehen, a USD Law graduate who filed a rambling, incoherent, and largely incomprehensible complaint as a result of someone creating a fake Twitter profile of her that implied her conservative political views meant she was a Nazi. Since that time, I decided it was best to leave well-enough alone, as Tiffany had proven herself to be sort of the litigious type and I wasn’t exactly interested in being dragged into the undertow on the sea of crazy that appeared to be brewing, and the fact that talking about Tiffany seemed a little too much like kicking a handicapped puppy. She was clearly out of her depth in this matter, suing both Twitter and her law school for $100,000,000 for the ostensible damage to her reputation.
This was, in my opinion, exactly the sort of lawsuit that the courts sort out on their own, without any interference from me or any other the other internet lawyer blogs who wrote about it.
Continue reading “TiffanyvTwitter: An Open Letter To Tiff”
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.””
Alright folks, I’m in depositions all day today trying to protect a client from themselves, and that means it’s time for another edition of my filler material, namely “So You Want To Be A Lawyer?”
In the last two parts we talked about the history of the legal profession and how you will disappoint my dad and be poor. However, some of you have been sending me messages telling me that this is actually encouraging you to go to law school. Jesus. I knew a lot of my newer readers are into some kinky shit, but this level of self-abuse is fucking unheard of.
But fine. Fine, you don’t care about money, you’re willing to disappoint my father, and you’re okay with the fact the ABA invented a time machine to exert a stranglehold on the legal profession. Are you willing to be the world’s less funny, less endearing Rodney Dangerfield?
Because, buddy, you sure as shit ain’t getting no respect.
Continue reading “So You Want To Be A Lawyer, Part 3: You’ll Get No Respect”
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.”