Representing the Reprehensible: Part 1 – Boozy Rambles

Good  morning, or afternoon, or whatever time of day it is! Look guys, I’m not only writing a blog, I’m a practicing attorney, and that means from time to time shit runs late, like it did today and last week and…shit, I mean…every week since I took that ill-advised trip to the mountains to remember what it felt like to unclench my asshole for a few days. But that’s well in the past now, and it’s time for me to start doing shit that I’m supposed to be doing again, like updating this thing and passing on profane wisdom to those who need a swift kick in their perpetually idealistic asses. Which…you know…include letting people know that sometimes you’re going to represent people you abso-fucking-lutely despise.

I’m not just talking about your run of the mill “Oh, clients just flat out suck” type of person you despise either. Nope, not today my merry little shitstains. Today I’m talking about the client who causes your skin to crawl and your brain to say “Nope, fuck you man, you want to take this case you can talk to your ass cause that’s the one making the arguments.” I’m talking about the representation of the world’s reprehensible folks. You know the type I’m taking about, the one’s who go on and on about the purity and strength of the “White Race” while looking like Skeletor and having someone they can call “Sister Momma” with a straight face.

“Fuck them, Boozy,” people who definitely are Muggles will say as they read that paragraph, “Tell us why they don’t deserve a lawyer!”

I’m about to piss a lot of those fucking Muggles off though, guys, because here’s the simple truth: Lawyers aren’t supposed to make moral or judgment calls about their clients (even though we totally do), and that doesn’t just apply to the fluffy, furry, fuzzy fun fuckers…it applies to the hardcore Neo-Nazi assholes as well.  Because that’s our goddamn job.

I can hear the sounds of the non-lawyers blocking me on Twitter and removing the site from their news streams even as I type that. Well, good fucking riddance.

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Charlotte-an School of Law: A Eulogy

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.

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The ABA Web Top 100: Getting Out The Vote – Boozy’s Picks

OH SNAP!  It’s time to start nominating people for the ABA’s Top Web Top 100!

So, this is the internet popularity/substantive discussion contest that lawyers engage in every year. Essentially, we all get together and vote for whose website we like the most, and watch the losers not acknowledge the ABA Top 100 is, you know, a thing. I find it amusing that I was nominated for this considering my public feelings and opinions on the ABA, but let’s be completely fucking honest here: I’m a big old whore. I will most definitely take accolades from anyone willing to give them to me.  Even the ABA, who, as we’ve discussed, has a time traveling power that allowed them to establish the first clothier on the banks of the Rubicon.

So, to appease the internet overlords, I’m going to follow the trend and let you know who the hell I think deserves recognition for this (prestigious?) honor:

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InkedFur’s Furry Friday: Convention Hotel Rooms Aren’t A Fucking Brothel

Holy shit, is it already time to open up the cages and let the technicolor zoo roam free again? Yes, you fuzzy little assholes, it sure as shit is. Welcome to yet another Furry Friday on Lawyers & Liquor, this time brought to you by my newest, greatest partner in insanity, InkedFur.com. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one making bad decisions related to you furry fucks, and InkedFur has graciously cast their lot in with me for the time being, or until I really and truly fuck shit up. Until that time, though, they’ve also given you guys an awesome discount code on “Dakimakuras,” which my research tells me is a body pillow, for this month only with the code “BOOZYSENTYA.” Go buy shit from them. They pay me.

So, it’s been an interesting fucking month, hasn’t it? The amount of messages that have poured in since announcing you assholes were getting a monthly spot on the round-up of bad decisions has been amazing, and every suggestion you made was duly considered, then immediately disregarded. As I’ve said before, I don’t even let other attorneys dictate what I write on this site, why the hell would I let a collection of animals tell me what to do?

BUT there was something that became really goddamn clear as I spent my month awash in a sea of dildos and art (which, by the way, may just become the name of my autobiography at this point), and that was convention season is on the horizon and none of you motherfuckers have even the barest understanding of what legal rights you do and don’t have when wearing massive costumes and consuming copious amount of liquor in a rented room. So, after a few brief moments of consideration, I decided that may be a good thing: giving you guys an idea of your legal rights in regards to hotel rooms in a likely ineffective effort to keep you from getting picked up by animal control as you criss-cross the continents in search of the next sketchbook to glance in and then immediately fucking regret.

So, let’s take a moment this Furry Friday and look at hotel rooms and the law.  Go get a smoke or something. This one’s gonna be long as hell.

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Screw The Optics: Why Lawyers Need Vacations

So, this weekend I had the chance to talk to my father. If you’re a reader of my inane ramblings that aren’t exclusively practice guides, you know a little about Dad already, and if you don’t you can read a lot more about him here than you really want to know. The gist of the phone call was arranging a pickup point for us to exchange my kids this weekend, as they’re going to spend a week with my parents and explore all the wonders the Bluegrass state has to offer…or at least all the wonders they can enjoy before they turn 21. Which, considering the main exports of Kentucky, are bourbon, tobacco, and horses, aren’t much.

During the course of the conversation, Dad said to me “You should really take a week off and come down to visit. It’d do you some good.”

“Gee whiz Dad,” I answered, “I’d love to, but I’ve got so much going on right now. Depositions, hearings, client meetings, and some appellate stuff that has a pretty firm deadline. Maybe next year.”

“You know, if you don’t get away from that office you’re going to lose your mind.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I told him as I built a new friend out of pipe cleaners and drain hair, “I’ve got it all together.”

“Just remember, you gotta take care of yourself or you can’t take care of your clients.

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