Monday, March 28, 2005

Head Like A Hole

Morally Flexible Partner is a caricature, a cliche, a stereotypical fat slob. He's so grossly over the top that you can't believe he's a genuine human being. Remember the Fat Guy in the French restaurant in Monty Python's The Meaning of Life? OK, Morally Flexible Partner is not that fat, but he has the same manners. He called me into his office a week ago to discuss a pleading, and he was shovelling his face full of food. Morally Flexible Partner started talking while he was chewing, and in between moist chomps, exhaling heavily. As soon as he was finished forking pasta salad into his maw, he then tore open a bag of chips, grabbed a fistful in his sausage fingers and just smashed them into his mouth.

During work hours, you can hear his loud craw (and oddly girlish giggle) when he talks on the phone, even with his door closed. And he's not talking about work usually. No, he's talking about his ex-wife who's taken the furniture, or making slightly racist comments (then lowering his voice realizing that the word processor, who is black, is sitting in the cubicle outside his office).

I've heard the tapes of this guy on another case back when I was at another firm. The man is Morally Flexible, and even worse, not that great of a lawyer (though I wonder how the hell he became partner at all these BigLaws).

So added to my many prayers (well, since I'm agnostic, I guess wishes on a rainbow or some other such crap) is that I hope I don't end up like Morally Flexible Partner.

Monday, March 21, 2005

I Predict A Riot

For a while, you can ignore it. You do your research on Lexis. You write your arguments built on simple sentences and solid logic. You distill the points you're really trying to get across into tight little beads of clarity so that your words don't get tarnished and unformed like so much dross. Sometimes, you even feel a sliver of joy when you're able to tear an opposing argument to shreds.

And then, like an alcoholic's moment of clarity, you remember it. And what you remember is this: litigation is simply a bunch of people saying "fuck you" to each other. Don't get me wrong, more often than not, at least one of those people have good reason to say "fuck you." But they're still saying "fuck you." Remember getting into arguments with mom and pop as a teenager, screaming your lungs out until you wanted to do something stupid and angry? Remember some jagoff cutting you off on the freeway and him flippin' you the bird after a long honk on your horn? And remember how wound up you'd be, unable to just chill and replaying it over and over in your head, your jaw clenching and your hands unconsciously turning into fists for days after?

Now imagine that day after day after day. Because, as I said before, ligitation is simply a bunch of people saying "fuck you" to each other. As litigators, we get paid to stand in for our clients and say "fuck you" in more technical ways (though once in a while, we do say simply "fuck you" to opposing counsel). Yes, most days are dull days of paperwork, cyas and research--but you know you're doing it all in support saying "hey dickwad, come suck on it." And whereas yelling at mom and pop blew over in a day or two, litigation can last for years. Just imagine yelling at mom and pop for every single day of your life for forty years. Or to put it in a more descriptive way, an argument is a scratch while ligitation is that tumor slowly metastisizing in your brain.

And you wonder why I'm called Angry Yellow.

Sunday, March 13, 2005

Taking Different Roads

Who woulda thunk that someone could cover Joy Division's "Love Will Tear Us Apart" to sound like something The O.C. would play, and even more disturbing, that it could sound so good?

Tuesday, March 08, 2005


In a purely unscientific survey of people, including greg and Da Goddess, of whether I should give the Betty I met on Saturday who broke up with her fiance only a week and a half ago, still lives with him, but made it quite clear that she was gagging to get married NOWNOWNOWNOW because she was in her mid-thirties, we have one vote for "sure, give her a call" (sorry Katharine) and four votes of "RUN FOR THE FRIGGIN' HILLS."

Feh, I already did the going out with a woman who just broke up with her fiance thing anyway, and boy is that schtick tired. ('Course, I was the one who caused her to break up with fiance that time, but same dif.)

Sunday, March 06, 2005

Baby You Be Sweet

Yeah, I know it's a gift to be loved by anyone and to take attraction as flattery. Count your blessings and such (though having a stalker kinda puts a crimp in those platitudes). So in my life, I've been pursued in succession by, shall we say, the overly voluptuous, and there was a long run in which I kept getting "winks" on from FOBs. Now it seems that there's been a stretch of women who have shown interest (no matter how briefly) in Marty that share a rather strange trait in common--they've all recently broken up with their significant others (2 fiances and a boyfriend). What the heck kinda vibe am I giving off?