Juggalo Law

Posts by Juggalo Law

A great many of our most polarizing political discussions involve deciding what we should be able to sell. Pot legalization, for instance, is oftentimes framed as a debate over whether we should be able to smoke marijuana cigarettes at our leisure. But that debate’s over. It’s been won by the High Times crowd a thousand times over, no matter how many times a kid gets popped on a possession rap. No, the schism involves the sale of weed. The business of it. News articles about Colorado are less interested in doofuses smoking pot and more interested in the brave, new world of pot dispensaries. The business of America is business and all that.

This weekend brought news of a burgeoning overseas market in human organs. And gay eyeballs. If you can’t see the connection, allow me…

double red triangle arrows Continue reading “Organ Fail”

“I hear this place is restricted, Wang, so don’t tell ‘em you’re Jewish, okay?” –Al Czervik

The reason all conjugations of the word “hate” (hater, hating, haterade, hatin’, Hatty McDaniel) took on such ubiquity in the past decade or so has to do with how much fun hating on other people actually is. It’s the best and it serves as a through line for all human activity that is even remotely pleasurable. Soap operas, reality television, professional wrestling, stamp collecting, the white power movement… all built on a sturdy foundation of hate.

And nowhere is this more apparent than in our nation’s two most popular diversions other than titty bars: business reporting and sports.

This week, a New York Times reporter decided to throw an obscene amount of shade on New York Islanders owner Charles Wang and his legal problems. In the process, he employed an ethnic slur, called Wang a coward, and told the audience that Silky’s mink is made out of 100 percent rat ass….

double red triangle arrows Continue reading “Haters Gonna Hate, Islanders Gonna Lose”

Did you say threesome, Dean?

“For sure. It’s the first time I’ve ever followed a court case. Because, I mean, it effects me personally, y’know?”

Scarlett was fiddling with a dildo the size of my arm when she explained to me how the industry felt about it.

“As far as I can tell, and I’m no lawyer, but as far as I can tell? This O’Bannon stuff means amateur pornography is over.”

The student-actress spoke into the webcam with a surprising confidence as she slowly gyrated her waifish body.

“Maybe I won’t make a ton of money. Won’t become rich like the stars do. But it sure would make getting through school easier. Which, I mean, all the producers say that’s what they’re trying to help me with. School.”

“And here’s another thing I think,” she said, her hands now doing something that could only be described as anything but professional.

“I believe in the ideal of amateurism. In the notion of ‘Hey, this is me and this is my real boyfriend and we aren’t getting paid for this.’ I believe in that. But I also could use a bit of money. To buy books. And food. Maybe more lube.” At this, the show stopped and she quickly covered up, suddenly demure and pitiful.

double red triangle arrows Continue reading “The End Of Amateurism?”

“Man first of all exists, encounters himself, surges up in the world — and defines himself afterwards” — Sartre, you idiot.

When I began writing for this esteemed fashion website, I decided to use the name Juggalo Law because I didn’t have time to think of a good name. It originally had been offered up as a lame joke. In that way, it stuck, I suppose, because of its deeply descriptive powers. Here are some more lame jokes.

Names are important insofar as they signal to the outside world what our true character is. George W. Bush named Karl Rove Turdblossom. This is apt. This paints a picture in one’s mind.

But what of the names we call ourselves? Are we lawyers? Attorneys? Un autre petit nom de guerre? Je ne sais pas la réponse. Je suis simplement un clown.

Let us discuss the names we give ourselves…

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1974: It was a very good year?

Ed. note: The following is an article written by Juggs in December 2010. Consider this the Hall of Fame for the ATL Lawyer Letter Bracket going on now.

1974 was a good year. The IRA bombed the Tower of London, President Nixon was forced to resign in scandal,gasoline shortages led to long lines at the pump, asmallpox epidemic ripped through India, and faminesavaged the continent of Africa. So yeah… great year, history!

But in the midst of all this human suffering, there werelulz to be had. All it took was a litigious Cleveland Browns fan and an attorney with balls big enough to set the Cuyahoga on fire (awesome metaphor!).

After the jump, a letter from the fan, Dale Cox, followed by the rejoinder from ATL’s Lawyer of the Year for 1974, one James N. Bailey…

double red triangle arrows Continue reading “Flashback Friday: ATL Lawyer of the Year, 1974″

Judge Claudia Wilken

My father was appalled by the way in which school mascots were often feminized for the girls’ teams. My own high school mascot, the fearsome Blue Jay, became the Lady Jay when donned by someone with a uterus. It’s unclear whether he was spurred to such offense by an instinctual feminism or a deep pedantic streak. He had both.

I was reminded of my father while reading ESPN’s sister website, espnW. It’s sports news and infotainment packaged specifically for a woman’s sensibilities. I think it has something to do with pH balancing? At any rate, it’s an embarrassing ghetto maintained by ESPN and given prominent position at the bottom of their webpage, near other hot sections like “Ombudsman” and out of season X Games coverage.

Published in said ghetto this week was an article on why dumb women make the best decisions regarding multi-billion dollar sports enterprises. This is only a slight exaggeration…

double red triangle arrows Continue reading “Dumb Broad Judges Ruin Sports Best”

You remember that movie Ghost World? Me neither. It starred that girl from American Beauty and that girl from Lost in Translation and Steve Buscemi Eyes and the kid from The Client (R.I.P.). But none of that matters! What matters for our purposes today is that the plot involved signs from something called Coon Chicken Inn. Spoiler alert: that place actually existed! It was a chain of three fried chicken restaurants that trafficked in succulent breast meat and crazy f**king racism. According to its wiki entry, Coon Chicken Inn even possessed trademarks. Real, valid, honest-to-God trademarks.

This week, the Washington Redskins were adjudged to be more racist than Coon Chicken Inn. Well, not exactly. Specifically, the Redskins trademark was cancelled on the grounds that it was “disparaging to Native Americans.” You can read Elie’s take and the actual decision itself here.

But what if I told you that Coon Chicken Inn was just the tip of the racist iceberg? What if I told you that same iceberg is racist sexist, and homophobic? Is that an iceberg you would be interested in investigating?

Let’s muck around in the fever swamps of America’s offensive trademarks and the shaky legal edifice that has been erected around them, shall we?

We shall…

double red triangle arrows Continue reading “Your Legal Guide To Offensive Trademarks”

There are a great many things in this world that are complicated. Fixing a car, for instance, will always involve a great deal of black magic and skills that can only be found in a vanishingly small elect of horrifyingly hirsute types. The hairier the mechanic the better, my mom never said.

Quantum mechanics, french pastry, the resurgent popularity of men’s tank tops. These things are complicated and hell if I can explain any one of them to you. Ours not to reason why; ours to buy a nice little house in Westchester, sock away a little for retirement, eat more roughage.
Compared to these things, law is piece of cake. Which is why coverage of Ed O’Bannon’s lawsuit against the NCAA is a bit confused. Rather than tackling the key question, whether the NCAA is ten pounds of crap in a five pound bag, commentators are wading into the murkiest depths of antitrust law. This is wrongheaded.

Let me explain…

double red triangle arrows Continue reading “Antitrust You? No, No You Cannot.”

I used to watch a lot of televised golf. The Masters, the U.S. Open, the twee British one, that other last one. All the big tournaments, I watched. And I watched because Tiger Woods laid waste to an entire generation of golfers. Previously, golf had been an impenetrable bore to me. I was aware of who the best golfers were and I was also aware that every time I tuned in, they probably weren’t going to win. Golf was random like that, too difficult a sport for one man to dominate. Nicklaus had been the previous generational talent, but even his dominance meant that he won well less than half the tournaments he entered. Something inside of me hated this.

I don’t watch golf as much anymore because it’s reverted back to its random, boring self. Who wins this week will be a total crapshoot. Crapshoot, by the way, was an ancient sport that pit one white guy versus another white guy and each white guy had to defecate into a small white hole hundreds of yards away from his anus. Crapshoot. It was like golf and it was totally impossible to play and/or watch. Anyway.

I mention all of this because crime in the sports world has often resembled Tiger-less golf in its randomness. There has never been any way to predict who would rape whom and who would murder whom else. Total crapshoot. This week has brought us a bit of a referendum on this topic with one athlete dominating his field while another preaches randomness.

In one corner, Aaron Hernandez, who am become death, destroyer of worlds. In the other, Darren Sharper…

double red triangle arrows Continue reading “Aaron Hernandez, Televised Golf, and Randomness”

This is the delicate dance done between American cities and the NFL. The American city will bow, the NFL will embrace. They glide across the dancefloor of time and space, dipping and twirling, bumping and grinding. The city and the NFL become one as the dance reaches its climactic stage, the NFL gently caressing the city, like a mother might a child. As the music of the universe crescendos, the NFL will whisper gently into the willing city’s ear.

GIVE ME ALL YOUR F*$&ING MONEY, YOU DIRTY PIECE PIECE OF S&!*

The stadium is built and the dance is complete.

In upstate New York, this thrusting, rapey foxtrot is just getting started. Governor Cuomo, the Bills, Roger Goodell, they’ve all been invited. And so has a lawyer… natch.

Because the Bills need a new stadium and because they need a new owner. Because the state of New York drafted an attorney with tremendous upside potential.

Because all of this, let’s talk sports…

double red triangle arrows Continue reading “Ask Not What The NFL Can Do For Buffalo”

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