A brief tangent. I was shocked and appalled to find out that I wasn’t asked my thoughts about being no-offered by your summer firm. As, perhaps, the only ATL writer who found himself in such a situation, I thought my insights would be particularly valuable. Instead of cobbling together that fake-as-hell gchat (“I think that is a fine point, sir. As I cogitate on this question, allow me to interject a brief few words in support of the fair maiden whose plight we now consider.”), they could have asked me: straight up, what did you do when Baker & McKenzie no-offered you?
Excellent question, Lat. I let a single teardrop roll down my cheek like I was Denzel in Glory. Then I picked myself up, slapped my dog in the face and did, like, 16,000 biceps curls. I determined that I wasn’t going to let some dumb dumb law firm dictate my life’s trajectory. I was going to be a huge success, someday reaching upwards of two dozen people as a writer for the Internet’s preeminent website for law firm bonuses and women’s shoes. I was also not going to let Baker’s decision get in the way of my life’s dream to one day work at a terrible office filled with half-wit lunatics who either don’t know I’m a lawyer or don’t care. To quote Matthew Wilder, I decided that no law firm gonna break-a my stride, nobody’s gonna slow me down. Oh no. I’ve got to keep on moving!
I also considered taking a huge dump outside Baker’s offices.
You go to war with the army you have, not the army you might want or wish to have at a later time.–Donald Rumsfeld
That line, besides being a viciously subtle slap at this great nation’s servicemen and women, also contains a great amount of wisdom. Rummy’s lines had a way of doing that (known knowns, unknown unknown, gnome noams, etc.). For instance, today the sports world stands on the precipice of two wars. And as we survey the looming battlefields, sabres drawn, guns loaded, war analogies wild and unkempt, we face the very real prospect of going to war not with the army we want, but the army we have. Namely, Alex Rodriguez and Johnny Manziel.
But go to battle we must. Our nation’s sports, all teetering precariously on a foundation of absolute hypocrisy, threaten to come crashing down. We are aghast at the mere presence of performance enhancing drugs. At least, that’s what some dude at GNC told me. And while we believe in the free market reflexively, we do not believe a 20-year-old should share in the fruits of his labors. These are the motivating paradoxes of our current sports age and they are threatening to unravel right before our eyes. Isn’t this exciting!? It’s like when the Berlin Wall came down and the kid in your class brought the little pebble and he said “Look, this was the Berlin Wall.” And you squinted and shivered at the mere sight of such an important artifact but, seriously? You wanted to beat that kid in the face and take his history rock.
Let’s talk something other than that jerk kid and his cool commie gravel…
Dwyane Wade with his new girlfriend (ex-wife not pictured).
Love and marriage, love and marriage,
Go together like a horse and carriage.
This I tell ya, brother, you can’t have one without the other.
Less than a mile from the Buckingham Fountain, a woman plopped her butt down on the pavement, arranged her various cardboard signs and proceeded to hold court. Sitting mere feet away from a man who blows a loud whistle and holds signs accusing the FBI of rape and Obama of… something, the woman’s protest wouldn’t have registered here in Chicago if it weren’t for one thing: the woman was Dwyane Wade’s ex-wife.
A woman I work with announced it rather blithely Friday afternoon. “Dwyane Wade’s ex-wife is across the street protesting something about money.” Those of us who care deeply about basketball and freakshows and anything that will distract us from our awful jobs immediately ran to the window. And there she was (picture after the jump).
Siovaughn Funches was Dwyane Wade’s high school sweetheart. I imagine she had lived a fairytale life as her young beau climbed the rungs of basketball success and made his way to untold millions. Or maybe not. I can’t say I know exactly what Siovaughn Funches thought about her marriage. What I can say is that Siovaughn Funches sat on the ground and showed how powerless the law can be when it comes face-to-face with profound mental unbalance.
What if I told you Siovaughn Funches wasn’t the craziest story involving a basketball player’s love life this week? What if I told you about an abortion contract? Is that something you might be interested in?
“I am hyper-sensitive when it comes to name calling and ethnic slurs — just look at my name. I bristle when people are derided as dumb Polacks, greedy Jews, smelly Pakis, stupid beaners, camel jockeys, frogs and gooks. There are many more but no reason to list them all.”
This world is absolutely crawling with DUI attorneys. You wouldn’t know it to look at this website, but it’s fairly clear out here in Amurrica that DUI attorneys outnumber other attorneys by at least a seventeen or eighteen-to-one margin. If you don’t believe me, perhaps you’ll believe Google? A search for “DUI attorney” returns over 27 million hits. Whereas a search for “clown gingivitis” only returns 638,000. So yeah, there are a ton of DUI attorneys in this world.
If you’re wondering why I’m wasting your time and mine on hilarious Google searches, it’s because this is the week that sports figures decided to get all sorts of liquored-up and go on joyrides. Well, this is the week I decided to write about sports figures getting all sorts of liquored-up and going on joyrides. Because, truthfully, athletes and those who employ them have a long history of drunk driving. I refer you to my first paragraph. Those lawyers didn’t multiply like wet Gremlins because work was hard to come by. Indeed, drunk driving is a crime that is enjoyed by a wide swath of Americans, from a young me to a slightly older me to those who aren’t even me. Now, this is not to downplay the seriousness of the crime. It’s a terribly reckless thing to do and it should be punished harshly.
When I’m watchin’ my T.V.
And that man comes on to tell me
How white my shirts can be
But he can’t be a man ’cause he doesn’t smoke
The same cigarettes as me
–The Rolling Stones
(FYI, this post was written while watching the NBA draft, so it is especially sloppy. I do not, however, have a good excuse for the picture of Elie after the jump.)
Fashion is hard. No one knows that better than I. Currently, I have two suits at my disposal. Two. One’s blue and stretches at the seams when I put it on and the other is brown and it billows out around me at the slightest provocation, looking for all the world like a suit my older brother gave me that I just need to grow into. Brown and blue. I try my best to religiously switch back-and-forth, but most weeks are taken up by only one of the suits. This week has been brown in case you were wondering. I used to rock a charcoal number, but that thing was so big, I appeared to be doing a very sad David Byrne impersonation.
If you’re wondering why my patented “Who gives a f&*%?” personal anecdote this week is dedicated to couture, it’s because we are on the cusp of a revolution. Not since Kriss Kross wore their Starter jackets backwards (R.I.P. the one who died) has a fashion statement arrived with such force and absurdity. And not since Mike Tyson made everyone run out and get face tattoos has a menacing athlete changed the aesthetic game so boldly. This week, Aaron Hernandez got arrested for murder. Miranda means he didn’t have to say anything. It was his right to remain silent, for christ’s sake. Something something something…FASHION STATEMENT!!!
Ed. note: This post was written before this morning’s arrest warrant was issued for Aaron Hernandez on charges of obstruction of justice. If he ends up in an SUV being tailed by helicopters, again, we’ll have more Patriots jokes.
“The first time as tragedy, the second time as farce.”
– Karl Marx
What was I doing on June 17, 1994? I don’t really know. I was fifteen years old and I can assure you that a great deal of my day revolved around sex and the fact that I wasn’t having it. At fifteen, the mere thought of a breast could send great paroxysms of excitement through me. You have to understand, dear reader, that a boy of fifteen is less a human being than a walking, talking priapic trainwreck. Add to this lovely vision the fact that the Internet did not arrive in my small Kansas town until years later and I can guarantee you that I was probably staring at a catalog of some sort. Future generations will know neither our pain nor our ingenuity, will they? Anyway, I had not meant to go all Alexander Portnoy on you in this opening paragraph, but honesty’s cost in this case is a foul peek into a hormone-addled mind. Oh, I’m sure I went outside for at least a little bit on that fateful day. Being summer and all, I might have gone to the pool. Maybe played some basketball. Perhaps hatched a scheme to score alcohol. It’s possibly I did any number of things. The only thing I can guarantee is that for most of that day, I thought about sex. And the fact that I wasn’t having it.
On June 20, 2013, a television news copter hovered high above Boston, chasing a white SUV that didn’t appear to be in much of a hurry. Inside that SUV was a man who is currently famous for playing professional football. It is unclear whether yesterday marked a sort of tipping point like it did back in 1994. When a man famous for playing professional football instead became famous for murder.
I told my dad “Fudge you” just once. I was fifteen or sixteen and he was being a real butthole. Saying some crap about the clothes I was wearing. My jeans were too fricking big or something, I don’t know. Style, huh? Anyway, I was standing there with my big fricking jeans literally hanging off my backside, when dad starts in on me. Saying all his crap about my big fricking jeans. So I say it. I just up and say it. “Fudge you.” Life, as it has from time to time since that fateful moment, paused. And not slightly, but for, like, ten fricking minutes. Time just stood freaking still and the moments to come just waited there, I guess. Waiting to freaking happen cause time had stood still and all. Well, when time started up again, I hightailed it back to my room as my dad just stood there silently. Not a freaking word to be said, I guess. I must have sat in my room for two hours, until my mom came home and retrieved me from my self-imposed exile. “Cheese and rice, what did you say to your father? He’s sore as heck over something you said.” I told her and she blushed and I blushed and she told me I ought to apologize. She told me to pull up my pants, too. On account of my butt showing.
There are moments in life that just scream for curse words. For sailors, those moments take up their entire lives! For the rest of us, we must pick our moments carefully. One Connecticut man recently cussed a fudging blue streak all over his speeding ticket, earning the ire of the small town that issued the citation.
And now it’s not just a huge freaking deal, but also a possible crapstorm of constitutional proportions…
Lionel Messi should blame his tax problems on ‘the accountant of God.’
Being caught for tax evasion seems like a fairly high-class problem to have. Like finding a place to dock your yacht or having gout. Al Capone, of course, is the patron saint of tax fraud. And syphilis. And Geraldo Rivera televised spectaculars. But mostly of tax fraud. And then there’s Wesley Snipes, who is the modern-day tax evader par excellence. In researching this post, I just found out that Snipes was released from prison just this past April. Welcome back Wesley!
So yeah, evading taxes tends to be, like, the sport of Kings. Capone and Snipes. Snipes and Capone. Any way you cut it, you’re in a pretty select group when you don’t pay your taxes. I, myself, have never had the chance to evade taxes as the IRS has never come after me all that hard. One of the perks of being destitute, I suppose. My cramped studio apartment is hot in the summer and cold in the winter and during all four seasons smells like old cheese. The McDonald’s sign outside the window keeps my girlfriend awake at night. But seriously, I could brag like this for at least two thousand words.
What I’m trying to say, I guess, is that the very idea of evading one’s taxes is as foreign to me as the game of soccer, a game in which I share the estimable opinion of the Prince of Soul Glo, Darryl Jenks: that’s a real cute sport.
Which is why it is fantastic that I can explore these two alien worlds concurrently. Let’s talk Lionel Messi. Let’s habla fútbol.
We’re going to talk about a$$holes today, class. Specifically, we’re going to talk about the way in which our society exalts certain bullies — the successful ones, I guess you’d say. If you’re laboring under a mountain of garbage work at a big law firm right now, you’ve probably run into a few of these. They’re your bosses. Because, if there’s any rule more reliable than gravity, it’s that the legal profession is thick with barely-functioning sociopathic goons who are sadistic to a degree rarely seen on Animal Planet. These a$$holes are lauded for their rainmaking potential and their ability to camouflage any recognizably human trait hidden deep within themselves. They are terrible and they probably run your life. So it goes.
But another class of individuals not far removed from the Biglaw freak show are those coaches (especially football) who are recognized as geniuses. Those successful coaches who look across the human landscape and only see so much raw material. So many interactions that must be scripted and manipulated in order to win some g-danged ball games. Genius has never been so depressingly common. But it’s from this class of individual that we build great hoary temples of cliche. Management principles, warfare strategies, motivational seminars, successories, visualization and actualization. This mountain of detritus is sustained by a steady stream of manure emanating from our nation’s greatest a$$holes. This, of course, is not meant to tar all coaches with this brush. Many coaches manage to retain some shred of their humanity while navigating the make-believe combat of their chosen sport. These coaches are usually losers, of course. But still. They exist.
Mike Gundy is not one of these exceptions. Mike Gundy is an a$$hole.
Ed. note: The Asia Chronicles column is authored by Kinney Recruiting. Kinney has made more placements of U.S. associates, counsels and partners in Asia than any other recruiting firm in each of the past seven years. You can reach them by email: email@example.com.
Please note that Evan Jowers and Robert Kinney are still in Hong Kong and will stay FOR THE REMAINDER OF THIS WEEK. We still have a handful of available slots for meetings with our Asia Chronicles fans. If we have not been in touch lately, reach out and let us know when we could meet! There is no need for an agenda at all. Most of our in-person meetings on these trips are with folks who understand that improving a legal practice through lateral hiring is an information-driven process that takes time to handle correctly.
Regarding trends in lateral US associate hiring in Hong Kong, we of course keep much of what we know off of this blog. Based on placement revenue, though, Kinney is having one of our most successful years ever in Asia. We are helping a number of our law firm clients with M&A, fund formation, cap markets, project finance, FCPA and disputes openings. These are very specific needs in many cases, so a conversation with us before jumping in may be helpful. As always, we like to be sure to get the maximum number of interviews per submission, using a well-informed, highly targeted, and selective approach, taking into account short, medium and long-term career aims.
Making a well informed decision during a job search is easier said than done – the information we provide comes from 10 years of being the market leader in US attorney placements at the top tier firms in Asia. There is no substitute for having known a hiring partner since he/she was an associate or for having helped a partner grow his or her practice from zip to zooming, and this is happily where we stand today – with years of background information on just about every relevant person in all the markets we serve, and most especially in Hong Kong/China/Greater Asia. So get in touch and get a download from us this week if we can fit it in, or soon in any case!
The legal industry is being disrupted at every level by technological advances. While legal tech entrepreneurs and innovators are racing to create a more efficient and productive future, there is widespread indifference on the part of attorneys toward these emerging technologies.
When the LexisNexis Cloud Technology Survey results were reported earlier this year, it showed that attorneys were starting to peer less skeptically into the future, and slowly but surely leaning more toward all the benefits the law cloud has to offer.
Because let’s face it, plenty of attorneys are perhaps a bit too comfortable with their “system” of practice management, which may or may not include neon highlighters, sticky notes, dog-eared file folders, and a word processing program that was last updated when the term “raise the roof” was still de rigueur.