Writing legal jokes was getting kind of boring. Blogs lose their appeal so quickly for me.
Now I mix legal jokes with legal observations. It will keep me entertained for about three more months over here.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
After two months of no post...a post!
Comrades, feast your eyes upon a post. Daniel's not writing this one...I am. Who am I? I'm Daniel's trusty law friend whom he invited to blog, since as of late we've had a whole lotta chicken nuggets and not much else.
Daniel and I can occasionally be found at Training Table, sharing a plate of cheese fries, lamenting our respective lack of relationships and recent bad dates. (Him: late-night confrontations. Me: they guy who pulled out his bank statements.) We also talk about the places we should've gone to law school (Him: Minnesota or Buffalo. Me: UNLV or Miami.) We also talk about our general superiority to those around us. (Mostly because they have better jobs and grades, and we're older.) At any rate, I like Daniel. I'm jealous of his height and illegal blue scooter. I think he's jealous that I get to go to Michigan all the time.
Final exams are but two weeks away, and the Class of 2010 is busy studying. (Or in my case, blogging and Facebooking.) For Daniel and I, these grades will likely determine whether we get summer jobs that pay $2000 a week or a month. Fantastic. Given that fact, I'm going to get back to studying.
I know you're wondering why there is an unexplained llama on the page. I have a thing for funny llama pictures lately. It's natural stress relief: no matter what is going on, at least things aren't as bad as they must be for that guy.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Natural Law
I once wrote that I don't know if there is a master race, but if there is it's CBS's Amazing Race.
Nothing about that is true, but it still is in the better half of jokes I've ever made.
So much of our views of race are governed by natural law. In early America the majority thought some races where naturally inferior. More so we've taken to the notion that all people---all people---are created equal.
I like the direction we've moved. I have some other thoughts on natural law...
The other day my car was totally on empty, so I pulled up to a Maverick gas station. Do you know about Maverick? It's kind of outdoorsy extreme. An "I got friends in low places" kind of feel. I've been to Maverick's many times. A fine place for a hot dog or very large drink.
But this was the first time I had ever been to Maverick in a jacket and tie. I felt so weird. I clearly didn't belong. There is something about natural law in play there.
Next, this afternoon as I went into the bathroom I saw an attorney at my firm dash in right before me. No big deal. This would normally mean nothing more than an awkward hello in a moment usually personal. But here is the big deal: HE WAS HOLDING A CASE FILE.
A case file everyone in the office may use, handle, flip through, peruse, etc., in the coming days, weeks, months, maybe even years.
He just held it the whole time he was doing his thing. Not cool. Not okay.
I don't need a rule book to tell me that. It's natural law.
Nothing about that is true, but it still is in the better half of jokes I've ever made.
So much of our views of race are governed by natural law. In early America the majority thought some races where naturally inferior. More so we've taken to the notion that all people---all people---are created equal.
I like the direction we've moved. I have some other thoughts on natural law...
The other day my car was totally on empty, so I pulled up to a Maverick gas station. Do you know about Maverick? It's kind of outdoorsy extreme. An "I got friends in low places" kind of feel. I've been to Maverick's many times. A fine place for a hot dog or very large drink.
But this was the first time I had ever been to Maverick in a jacket and tie. I felt so weird. I clearly didn't belong. There is something about natural law in play there.
Next, this afternoon as I went into the bathroom I saw an attorney at my firm dash in right before me. No big deal. This would normally mean nothing more than an awkward hello in a moment usually personal. But here is the big deal: HE WAS HOLDING A CASE FILE.
A case file everyone in the office may use, handle, flip through, peruse, etc., in the coming days, weeks, months, maybe even years.
He just held it the whole time he was doing his thing. Not cool. Not okay.
I don't need a rule book to tell me that. It's natural law.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Disclaimer
Dear guys:
It's not going to get any funnier or better. Case in point, I've spent the past two days trying to think of other 70's artists whose name's sound like a food item. That's the bar I've been shooting for, and I'm not even hitting it.
Maybe I'll try again next week.
It's not going to get any funnier or better. Case in point, I've spent the past two days trying to think of other 70's artists whose name's sound like a food item. That's the bar I've been shooting for, and I'm not even hitting it.
Maybe I'll try again next week.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Law of Progress
I never said my blog would be worth it, only that it would be easy...
Evolution of the Chicken Nugent
Friday, June 6, 2008
Cowboy Law
I had no idea it'd been two weeks. Maybe five days, but not two weeks. And now I feel silly because I didn't really come here to make a real post--kind of walked through the dinner party on my way to the metaphorical fridge. I'm in my robe, not even wearing pants, and all I wanted was a coke.
Anyway, this is what I came for:
Loving Her Was Easier Than Anything (I'll Ever Do Again).
It's not funny. It's not that interesting. It doesn't have anything to do with law, other than copyright violation. I just can't get it out of my head.
So next time I see you, or write you, or text you, no matter what I have to say, I'm really singing this in my head.
Anyway, this is what I came for:
Loving Her Was Easier Than Anything (I'll Ever Do Again).
It's not funny. It's not that interesting. It doesn't have anything to do with law, other than copyright violation. I just can't get it out of my head.
So next time I see you, or write you, or text you, no matter what I have to say, I'm really singing this in my head.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Space Law
Back in the day I went to this:
It was a good banquet as far as law events go. I'm still slightly stunned and worried that the whole affair counted as continuing legal education, but why look a gift horse in the mouth? (I've looked all kinds of horses in the mouth, and the best thing you are likely to find is bits of apple.)
The distinguish guest covered many points of law. For instance, he touched on the controversial legal issue of how hard to you have to throw a baby at a nanny's breast to constitute sexual harassment (depends on the social utility of throwing the child compared to the damage done to the breasts--also, in some states it matters whether the throw was under or over handed).
Somewhere in the middle of the address, Mr. Bernsen touched upon the topic of space law. Law in space? Can you even imagine? Space is the new Old West. A place where the six-shooter would rule, if there was enough air to facilitate a gunpowder reaction. (Now you can see why lazers play so heavily in the future.)
Space law is a blank canvass, but here is the only rule you really need to know: Space is cold, lonely, and will break your heart.
Here we have a young, brash engineer (IT) with nothing to lose. Though incredibly vast, space requires great precision.
Space is complicated, and if you want to make sense out of it all, you're going to need old newspapers, scissors, a metric/imperial ruler, explosives, and an interested Jack Russell Terrier.
And then the day cames. Zero-hour.
I'm a rocket man.
This rocket is America's greatest hope. It's the Grizzler. Majestic and proud.
This rocket has an understated, noble kind of pride. It was named Martin Luther King Blvd.
MLK Blvd sits eager upon the launch pad.
If you want to launch a rocket, you're going to need a good electron beam and many AA-batteries.
Both the Grizzler and MLK Blvd violently, powerfully, sleekly, clawed their way into space, slapping earth's gravity, mocking fate.
However neither rocket was recovered. $40, a few hours, and two hearts never to return from space's icy clutch.
It was a good banquet as far as law events go. I'm still slightly stunned and worried that the whole affair counted as continuing legal education, but why look a gift horse in the mouth? (I've looked all kinds of horses in the mouth, and the best thing you are likely to find is bits of apple.)
The distinguish guest covered many points of law. For instance, he touched on the controversial legal issue of how hard to you have to throw a baby at a nanny's breast to constitute sexual harassment (depends on the social utility of throwing the child compared to the damage done to the breasts--also, in some states it matters whether the throw was under or over handed).
Somewhere in the middle of the address, Mr. Bernsen touched upon the topic of space law. Law in space? Can you even imagine? Space is the new Old West. A place where the six-shooter would rule, if there was enough air to facilitate a gunpowder reaction. (Now you can see why lazers play so heavily in the future.)
Space law is a blank canvass, but here is the only rule you really need to know: Space is cold, lonely, and will break your heart.
Here we have a young, brash engineer (IT) with nothing to lose. Though incredibly vast, space requires great precision.
Space is complicated, and if you want to make sense out of it all, you're going to need old newspapers, scissors, a metric/imperial ruler, explosives, and an interested Jack Russell Terrier.
And then the day cames. Zero-hour.
I'm a rocket man.
This rocket is America's greatest hope. It's the Grizzler. Majestic and proud.
This rocket has an understated, noble kind of pride. It was named Martin Luther King Blvd.
MLK Blvd sits eager upon the launch pad.
If you want to launch a rocket, you're going to need a good electron beam and many AA-batteries.
Both the Grizzler and MLK Blvd violently, powerfully, sleekly, clawed their way into space, slapping earth's gravity, mocking fate.
However neither rocket was recovered. $40, a few hours, and two hearts never to return from space's icy clutch.
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