Juggalo Law

Posts by Juggalo Law

It’s always a little jarring when someone uses a big news event to bore down deeper into their own bizarre area of interest. Take, for instance, the Newtown massacre. While most news organizations were digging deep into the social, psychological, and political ramifications of the horror, ESPN reported on what it all meant to Jimmie Johnson. Or Rick Pitino’s stance on gun control. A White Sox relief pitcher made a trip to Newtown, and ESPN was there. Now, I don’t begrudge ESPN’s attempt to report the massacre through the prism of sports. The combination of seemingly disparate news elements sometimes yields interesting insights. But sometimes it just yields one more story about stock car racing. So it goes.

Now that all of the introductories are dispensed with, we can get to the question that’s been nagging all of you for an entire week. Or more!

What does the recent unpleasantness in Ukraine have to do with law firm rankings? And which Biglaw firms have the best presence in Ukraine? I’m glad you asked…

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I showered maybe two times after gym class in middle school. And both times, I was wearing underwear. Looking back, I still don’t understand why the school couldn’t shell out just a few more ducats and construct private shower stalls. Why do schools choose to introduce communal showering right at the time that we are learning that our bodies are horrible monsters that we are rightfully ashamed of? I’m not sure I’ll ever know the answer to that question. At my middle school, there were two kids who stood sentry at the shower room entrance, judging the size of each kid’s equipment. Can you imagine, dear reader, the horror of that experience? Perhaps you can. And perhaps you can imagine why my Hanes remained safely affixed to my inguinal region as I scampered, eyes fixed on the cement floor, surely to meet my death. If I could just run under the sprinkler, I could retreat to my locker where someone somewhere surely had some of that spray deodorant. Christ almighty, friends. Why do we still embrace the communal shower? I WAS A CHILD!!!!!!!

This week, a lobbyist caught the vapors much like I had as a child. Only this lobbyist is an adult. Presumably. Because I still haven’t gotten over middle school and because I don’t want to write about anything else, let’s talk about one issue this week. Let’s talk football. Let’s talk gay paranoia.

Let’s talk communal showers…

double red triangle arrows Continue reading “Who’s Afraid Of The BogeySam?”

Last month, Grantland published a story that led to great harrumphing across much of the internet. Titled “Dr. V’s Magical Putter,” it profiled a golf-club inventor whose big secret — that she was transgender — was revealed slowly, teased until the end like a mystery novel. The eponymous inventor’s death was treated as a mere plot point, puzzled over like everything else about the woman’s life. If you haven’t read the piece yet, I heartily encourage you to do so. I’ll wait.

This weekend, the New York Times published a story that will likely lead to very little harrumphing. This story, the profile of a transgender attorney who represents terror suspects, was written not as thrill-packed pulp fiction, but rather as the sober account of a ballsy attorney who deserves our approbation. If you’ll excuse that last sentence’s shameful bit of wordplay clowning, I promise you the rest of this post will be wholly serious. Because the New York Times story is important both for what it says about a life lived honestly and for what it says about the progress we’ve made in accepting such honesty.

So now, let us name all the interesting things about attorney Zoë J. Dolan. I mean, besides the umlaut….

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My parents separated for a brief period of time when I was in the fourth grade. I don’t remember there being too much controversy over where I would be crashing as (a) the separation didn’t last long and (b) I was not exactly the prize pig over which anyone in their right mind would compete. Anyway, the one thing I remember about that time was how my dad treated me. My father, who had previously acted as the proximate cause in his son’s nervousness and irritable bowels, was now a prince among men. He took me to a basketball game and laughed at my jokes in a deeply insincere way. If you ask me, this is the highest compliment another person can pay you.

I tell this story to establish my bona fides in the areas of family law, custody disputes, and even the fathers’ rights movement. I’m pretty much an expert. In the past week, the issue of fathers’ rights has popped up in unusual ways and places. Fox News reported over the weekend that a group of fathers are suing the state of Utah over their adoption laws. Bode Miller, meanwhile, won a bronze medal on Sunday, which prompted Slate to reprint an Emily Bazelon post on Miller’s odd custody dispute. And finally, a law firm in Florida has elevated fathers’ rights to perhaps its highest purpose: marketing.

The question posed by all of this is what if, with all apologies to Shaq Fu, the biological does bother?

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“Lane Dean, Jr., with his green rubber pinkie finger, sat at his Tingle table in his chalk’s row in the rotes group’s wiggle room and did two more returns, then another one, then flexed his buttocks and held to a count of ten and imagined a warm pretty beach with mellow surf, as instructed in orientation the previous month.”– David Foster Wallace

“The thing that makes ‘Dirty Jobs’ different is that it’s one of the few shows that portrays work in a way that doesn’t highlight the drudgery. Instead, it highlights the humor.”– Mike Rowe

Yesterday was like any other. I stared at my computer screen and tried to appear as if I were doing work. I went to the bathroom three times even though there was no there there. At one point, I was asked to wear a name tag. If there is any humor at all in what I do, it is of a type so dark and weird, it could only be appreciated in Germany. I graduated from a pretty good, very expensive law school and I was asked to wear a name tag yesterday. Yesterday was like any other.

I don’t know why the hell I whine like this. Like Cherry Valance said, it’s rough all over. And besides, everyone else is trying to get through their day, name tag or no. There was an old lady with five plastic bags next to her on the train yesterday morning. Each bag was filled with more plastic bags. And on and on. You want to know sadness, check out this old lady’s Matryoshka bags that keep her company throughout the day.

But you want to know who really has it bad? Minor league baseball players and Bengals cheerleaders.

Let’s talk employment lawsuits…

double red triangle arrows Continue reading “The Labor Law Origins Of The Infield Fly Rule”

Three years ago, the eminent civil rights historian Taylor Branch wrote a scathing essay in The Atlantic that compared college athletics to slavery. In that piece, he wrote that college sports carried with it “the unmistakeable whiff of the plantation.” Comparisons to slavery cannot be brought lightly, of course. This is not Kristallnacht after all.

Three years later, the plantation house still stands. As if we are taking a remedial class taught by Howard Zinn, we now arrive at organized labor. This week, it was reported that members of Northwestern University’s football team had filed a petition with the National Labor Relations Board in order to be recognized as a labor union. If successful, communism.

Whether you believe that college football players should be granted fifteen minute smoke breaks every four hours or not, I think it’s safe to say that we all fervently pray for the day that the NCAA perishes after a long, yet valiant, struggle with butt cancer. Because of that, there were very few outright denunciations of Northwestern University’s actions in the media this week. Still, let’s get a lay of the land, shall we?

Let’s talk Samuel Gompers. Let’s talk Hoffa. Let’s talk sports….

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Drugs make people stupid. It’s not that they impair important mental faculties in those who ingest them. Rather, they make everyone who doesn’t do them freak the everloving fudge out about them. People will literally believe anything you have to say about drugs. Drugs are like satanism was in the 1980s or religion was in the every other decade: if you are confronted with some unexplained phenomenon, drugs will help you fill in the gaps of your embarrassing ignorance. This week, for instance, we learned that one baseball writer chose to leave Greg Maddux’s name off his Hall of Fame ballot. Why? Because steroids. Confronted with an admittedly complicated issue like steroids, the writer chose to go Simple Jack on the whole process. Drugs, man.

But the idiotic baseball writer isn’t the only one whose brain bananas were agog over drugs this week. This week, we were treated to a college player’s lame excuse and a football conference’s dumb rule. Also, OJ Simpson. And the always-fantastic handwritten musings of a pro se petitioner.

Let’s talk sports…

double red triangle arrows Continue reading “Big Ten Finds Ecstasy Not The Bestasy”

How’d you like that, lawyer? –Darrell Royal

If you’re an attorney, have gone to law school, or are going to law school, you have seen the deposition in which Joe Jamail threatens to knock some geriatric chemist’s dick in the dirt. It’s stunning not because it’s surprising but, rather, because it is exactly what you expect a trial lawyer from Texas to do. When I first watched it, I thought someone had dug up my grandfather’s body and awarded him a posthumous Juris Doctor. The only thing more impressive than Jamail’s language in that deposition was just how nonchalant he was about unfurling his homespun insults. That ain’t your g**d*mned job, fatboy.

Jamail, of course, is famous not only for being a foulmouthed credit to the human race, but also for being paid exorbitant sums of money for his lawyering. This website has spilled a good deal of cyber ink in detailing Jamail’s piles of filthy luchre. And why not!? While the rest of you go about scratching out your bonus-sniffing beta lives, Joe Jamail soars above all that. Love him or hate him, the man crushes you and I in every imaginable category, save wallflowery.

This week, Joe Jamail pumped the brakes on Mack Brown’s exit from Texas. So we get to talk about him. And sports.

Let’s talk sports, fatboy…

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The last time someone willingly entered New Jersey.

* New Jersey continues to mint lawyers despite terrible market conditions. Lat told me I should come up with a good Jersey joke. I said that was fairly well-worn territory and I would feel a bit like #498 at the Houston 500. Lat said, “            ” [Newark Star-Ledger]

* The Obama uncle we mentioned earlier this week? Obama’s roommate before Harvard Law. Why won’t Obama produce his rent deposit!? [CNN]

* The men who stole parts of the Porsche Paul Walker died in were arrested yesterday. They will be charged with felony grand theft, tampering with evidence, and living perhaps too fast… too curious? [TMZ]

* Regulators are having a tough time figuring out what to do with the burgeoning Bitcoin market. Numismatists are equally puzzled by this rarest of rare coin markets. [New York Times]

* Jos. A. Bank, the most prestigious clothier in the United States and/or Canada, has been subpoenaed by the Ohio Attorney General. If the Ohio AG deposes one executive, he gets to depose three additional executives for free. [Washington Post]

* A Q&A with Nelson Mandela’s lawyer. Very cool story, indeed, bro. [Al Jazeera America]

And as an added bonus, after the jump are pictures from last night’s ATL holiday party…

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They told me, if I could sit on the stage so nobody climbed over me, I could drink beer till the show was over.
Gimme Shelter

Hells Angels are the Kleenex of biker gangs. Sure, there are the Mongols, the Outlaws, the Warlocks, the Diablos, the Cool Ranch Doritos. But all of those gangs take up relatively little space in the collective imagination. And one of those gangs isn’t even a gang. It’s a corn chip!

Anyway, the Angels’ ubiquity in popular culture means that when anyone anywhere thinks of roving gangs of motorcycle-riding degenerates, they think of the Angels. Hunter Thompson, Altamont, Sonny Barger and the Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test placed the gang at the forefront of that fashion trend known as the 60s. And as Atticus Finch quipped, “Even bellbottoms need a lawyer.”

So it was that the New York Times banged out an extra-long feature on the gang and their litigious ways over the long weekend.

That last sentence was the closest I could get the words “gang” and “bang” together. Let’s see if I have better luck later in this post….

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