Don’t Let Toddlers or Clients Dress Themselves

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.

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“Don’t Be A Dumba**” : 5 Tips for The Potential New Client

Last week I told all of the non-lawyer punks that are now reading the blog about how to contact a lawyer. Of course, being muggles and potential clients, and therefore incapable of wiping their own asses with an instruction manual, the immediate response to the post was “But…But Boozy, how do we decide what lawyer to hire once we’ve found one! I mean, plenty of lawyers are scumbags who just want our money!”

You hear that sound? That’s the sound of a million good lawyers out there sighing and throwing themselves backwards in their chairs all at once because you “heard from a guy about this one lawyer that was a real son of a bitch” and “didn’t care about the case.” Look, some lawyers suck, that’s just the nature of things. Some birds don’t fly, some dogs bite, and some lawyers have no business with a bar license, but that shit happens. Most of the time, though, the reason your fuckstick friend is so unhappy with their lawyer has absolutely nothing to do with the lawyer themselves, and a lot to do with what they think happened.

So how can lawyers fucking combat this plague of people that assume we’re all money-grubbing whores out for every penny in their pocket? Well, first, don’t hire me. Because I’m likely to be a money-grubbing whore out for every last penny in your pocket. Outside of that? Well, maybe I should take a fucking moment and tell people how they can act during a consult and assess a lawyer. I mean, I told lawyers how to assess a case and a client a while back, maybe it’s time for a companion piece on what to do once one of the mouthbreathing morons that make up the mass of humanity stumbles, through sheer happenstance and coincidence, into a law office instead of their friend’s living room. You know, that friend who “totally was a criminal justice major in college and can give you free legal advice.”

So, lawyers, turn back. This one’s for the potential clients. Or, you know, don’t turn back, because you motherfuckers know how I feel about clients and you may get a little bit of enjoyment from this shit.

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No More Phonebooks: Teaching Idiots to Find A Lawyer

I was supposed to review Larry Kelter’s new book, Back to Brooklyn this week, but that’s gonna get put off until Monday so I’ll have the weekend to actually, you know, finish the review. That sort of left me without a post yesterday, which is the main reason I’m getting one up on Thursday. If you’re not a fan of that, go to hell. I’ve been a little busy managing my goddamn mountain of furries and a few new cases that I picked up over the past week.

Both of which gave me a great idea, namely, how to identify a lawyer that you want to hire as opposed to an asshole like me that’ll want you to hire them. Apparently, looking through the Twitter feeds of idiots, I’ve discovered that too goddamn many people have absolutely no idea how to contact an attorney that doesn’t appear on a billboard or a mid afternoon commercial. This is a fucking issue, because people, and especially the subset of people defined as clients (those mouthbreathing morons) are attracted not to professional advertisements, but rather to eye-catching ads designed to rope you in.

This means that some folks are going to bad lawyers.

So, while I generally fucking hate clients and believe they deserve all the misery they’ve brough on themselves, I’ve decided that this one’s for you, Mr. Idiotic Lawsuit Bringer. Let’s talk about how you can skip right over the shitstains that populate the legal profession and hire an attorney who’s worth a damn.

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Clients are F’ing Liars: Dealing With A Client’s Knowing Omissions

It’s Monday, which means I should have spent my weekend working on a nice post for you guys and digging into a post for Wednesday, leaving me free to come up with and post something for this week’s Friday entry. What I did instead was drink copious amounts of Sour Monkey from Victory Brewing Company, then wash all of that down with half a bottle of Booker’s bourbon while playing games on my new computer. The end result is I don’t really have shit for you today, and trust me, I felt bad about it.

I mean, when I started this site the whole idea was to post something three times a week. Multiple times now I’ve failed to do that. I’ve gotten busy, or fallen behind on shit, and decided that the blog entry is the last thing I needed to be worrying about. Some of you out there are saying “Oh, Boozy, don’t worry about it man! We know that sometimes you’re going to be busy or overwhelmed, it’s cool to take a break every now and again.”

No, motherfuckers, no it isn’t. Because that would make me a liar, and I fucking hate people that lie to me about shit. You know why? Because I have to deal with clients, and clients lie all the fucking time. Those assholes are giving me money to help them and they lie about shit.

And look-ee here, just like that I have a reason to be a salty bastard this early in the morning: Bitching about clients that lie.

Which is every client.

Because all clients lie.

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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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