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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“Come get your file.”: 4 Reasons to Fire A Client

So, first things first, I know I didn’t exactly keep up with the two posts this week, one on Wednesday and one on Thursday. I had a very painful, very intimate health issue that I can tell you all about if you want to hear about it, but I’m pretty sure nobody wants the details on that one. Let’s just say that my house and office were filled with curse words until sweet relief came in the middle of the night last night. It was like a biblical plague.

Every lawyer has clients that they just can’t fucking stand. If you’ve read any of my past blog posts, which by now you damn well should have, you know that I’m of the general opinion that every client should be dropped and the practice of law should simply consist of people handing me money to review high-minded concepts. Still, if you’re a real lawyer (i.e not one of those carefully preened, always correct, latte-sipping in-house monkeys that only has to deal with “Gary from Sales” and has fucking interns to make a Starbucks run for them) eventually you’ll have to get over your longstanding disdain for people and take on clients. In theory, this should be a mutually beneficial relationship, as clients will come to you with problems, you will advise them and/or represent them in regards to their problems, and you then get paid for resolving those problems.

Isn’t that just the fucking fairy tale?  Still, we all fucking know that’s not how this shit actually works, because at one point or another every lawyer has received a phone call or an email from a client that made them sit the fuck up and say “I’m firing this asshole.” It’s damn near a rite of passage for attorneys, firing their asshole clients. But it’s one they give you absolutely no training on in law school, so how the fuck is a new attorney expected to know when is the moment to tell a client “Fuck you, come get your file.” Is it when they start to be annoying? When you have too much goddamn work to do? When, Lord? When is it appropriate to unilaterally terminate your relationship with the chucklefuck?

Have no fear, shitstains, Boozy’s here.

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How To Make A Client Settle- Prepare Them From The Start

Alright, I’ve talked in the past about how clients suck, about how clients are liars, about how clients are righteous motherfuckers, about how clients frustrate and infuriate, etc.  The take away from a lot of this is I don’t have a lot of fuckin’ love for clients in general.  The practice of law would be a wonderful thing if it wasn’t for the mouth-breathers that tend to waltz in the office doors with a bucket of problems and a small bag of pennies to pay with.  However, as clients tend to be an necessary part of me being able to afford things like new socks, I grudgingly tolerate and accept them.

But even I, a certified client-hater, know that nine times out of ten when a lawyer is bitching about a client they’re actually bitching about themselves.  Simply put, clients aren’t always the most intelligent beings on the face of the earth, and therefore a client can be managed if the lawyer sets down expectations early.  Still I hear about it at every bar function: how some low-life shitbird has fucked up their attorney’s day by refusing to settle or demanding a day in court.  They’ll kvetch over how shitty the claim is or how reasonable the offer was, and then, while swilling whiskey, proclaim “My client’s a fucking idiot.”  I have no sympathy in many cases.

You know what?  That’s your fucking fault, man.  That’s a result of shit you did early on and kept fucking doing right up until a settlement offer came in and you, probably correctly, advised that accepting it was the best offer.  However, your client got stars in their eyes and didn’t want to settle now.  They had faith in you, they believed everything you said to them early on, and their confidence has only grown since then.  Why should they take $100,000 or $200,000 when initially you told them they could get $500,000?

So how the fuck did you get in this mess in the first place, and how the fuck can you get out of this mess?  Well, I mean, now you’re only getting out of it by forcing the client to see the reasonableness of a settlement, with a ball bat if necessary.  How can you avoid getting into it in the first place?

By managing their expectations realistically, fuckwit.  

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Divorce Clients Suck: Why I Don’t Practice Family Law.

Generally there are two types of people in this world.  There are those who look forward to February 14th and the option to spend time with their sweetheart, feeling happy and in love.  Then there are guys like me, who prefer to spend this day in a miserable funk that, at some point tonight, we will transfer to other people.  Maybe we go to a local bar and send drinks to one-half of a couple trying to stir shit up, or maybe we just sit behind a computer screen with a glass of whiskey, a pack of cigarettes, and a strong desire to suck every ounce of joy out of this holiday for people.  In either case, it’s pretty goddamn clear that we aren’t fans of Valentine’s Day.

I’m not anti-love.  I just present my wedding gift as follows to recently married couples:  “Congratulations.  In five years I’ll do your wills or your divorce for free.”  I don’t get invited to dinner very much after that.

You know who must love Valentine’s Day, though?  Family lawyers.  All over the country tonight people are going to rush into a hastily planned engagement, leading to a hastily planned marriage, a soul-crushing series of mindless years spent wondering why you tolerate the son of a bitch in your bed, and finally the divorce.  The long, drawn-out, bitter divorce process.  Oh the hours you’ll bill when love turns cold.

Not me, however, because I don’t take family cases.  Why don’t I take family cases?  Well, let’s talk about this.

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The Estate, The Widow, and a Used Parrot: A War Story

So not too long ago I blasted a guy for making a post about a fucking parrot.  The post called out another attorney for possibly copying a tweet regarding a parrot in a divorce, it got thousands of views, and got me labeled as the “parrot post” guy.  Hell, it got mentioned in an online blog ran by People magazine.  A fucking parrot.

Ever notice how sometimes cases and legal issues in various matters, all of which are unrelated, become similar?  Not too long ago I was retained to sue a titty bar.  Since then, I’ve had a number of cases come in where I’m suing titty bars, all different cases.  Likewise, a while back I got one case against a car dealership, then while it was pending got like three more.  None of these people knew each other.  I have no idea how it happens, but it’s a truth:  For some reason certain types of cases seem to come in clumps.

Which, of course, means that a parrot became the central issue in an estate I handled recently…and then I started getting a variety of pet-related matters.  Determining the ownership of thirty cats.  Figuring out which neighbor’s dog was destroying prize-winning roses.  Etc etc etc.

Because, given my history with the species, of fucking course it would be a goddamn parrot that started the multiple rush of pet cases I’m currently handling.

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