Random Self-Indulgent Story About Me & My Dog

In the summer of 2003, before I started law school, I decided to get a dog. All my life, my family had dogs; they were always cute little furry creatures that my mom would put bandanas on and would prance around the house. These were great dogs, but I always wanted a dog more suited to me. It’s hard to feel masculine walking a Shih-Tzu down the street. So I resolved that when I finally got one of my own, I would get a dog that was quintessentially mine. This is how I came to own an English Bulldog, who I named Ike.

He was a good puppy; playful, friendly, goofy, and a total chick magnet. He never chewed up furniture or shoes, was housetrained fairly easily, and followed me everywhere I went. He was a great little dog.

Around the time that he turned six months, his bulldog personality began to really come through. He was stubborn and obstinate. He approached everything with the sort of persistent tenacity that made the breed famous. He absolutely had a mind of his own, and was never afraid to use it. If I would catch him doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing, like chewing holes in the drywall, I would scold him and he would take it like a champ. As soon as I was done, he would go right back to doing what I had just interrupted.

When it comes to stubborn, obstinate, anti-authoritarian, persistent personalities, Ike met had his match. He would have walked all over a weaker person, but not me. When I tried to make him do something that he didn’t want to do, he would sit down, ears back, eyes wide open, and stare straight up at me, defying me to make him do it. When he did, I had no problem waiting him out. If he didn’t want to pee in the rain, I would drag him to the middle of the yard and stand there looking at him until he was done struggling to try and get inside, and finally relented. If he didn’t want his ears cleaned, we’d have a Clash-of-the-Titans style wrestling match until he finally gave up and let me do it. And I loved every minute of it.


Ike's Defiant Look

When he wasn’t quite a year old yet, I left him with my parents for the weekend, and needless to say, he did not behave himself. When I got home I was told all of his misdeeds. “He wouldn’t leave Oscar and Mazey (their spoiled rotten Shih-Tzus) alone,” my mom told me. “He wouldn’t lie down and rest, he just was relentless in trying to get them to play. He is noisy, and just ran around all day and night. And when I tried to tell him what to do, he just sat there and looked at me like there was no way in hell he was going into his cage.”

“Yeah, he’ll do that,” I laughed.

“It’s one thing if you can handle him, but we can’t. Why don’t you take him to obedience school?” This seemed like a good idea. He behaved with me, but not with others, and if I wanted people to dogsit for me, he would need to learn to calm down and listen. Although I loved his stubbornness and independent spirit, I knew it was probably a smart thing to do. I researched obedience schools in the area, and learned that a top dog trainer was around here. I called and made an appointment for a free consultation. I liked the guy, and he said Ike would do better in one-on-one sessions. “Bulldogs are notoriously difficult to train. They take lots of work, but I can do it.”

“Don’t be so sure,” I told him. “He’s a stubborn little guy.” I decided to schedule three sessions for $100. “You might need more than that,” he said. I told him that if he was doing well, I’d schedule more sessions, but if it was apparent that it wasn’t going to work out, then I didn’t want to be out more non-refundable money.

We arrived for our first session, which was held in a big warehouse-like room. The first thing the instructor wanted to go over was the ‘sit’ command. Ike was a master sitter. I had been working on his sitting since he was a puppy, and it showed. He sat perfectly every time for the instructor. “This guy might be easier than I thought,” he told me. “Don’t count on it,” I said. Since Ike sat so well, he decided to move onto the ‘stay’ and ‘come’ command. He took out a treat, showed it to Ike, and told him to sit. Ike did. Then he said ‘Stay!’, and backed away, about 30 feet. He stopped, and called out, ‘Ike…Come!’ Ike barreled across the room, and received his treat. The trainer looked at me slyly, as if to say, “I told you so.”

He took out another treat, showed it to Ike, instructed him to sit and stay, backed away, stopped and called Ike again. Ike ran across the room, and got his treat. “I don’t know what you meant when you said he was stubborn. He’s a star!” the trainer exclaimed, clearly enamored with his own abilities. And I had to admit, I was impressed too. Had I been doing something wrong? Was Ike easily controllable all along, only I wasn’t fit for the task? Just as I thought this, the trainer again told Ike to sit and stay, and backed across the room. He called Ike to come, and Ike bolted in his direction. But halfway across the room, Ike suddenly put on the brakes, skidding on the concrete floor, and ended up in a sitting position, his head held high, ears pinned back, eyes wide, with a look on his face that said, “I know you are trying to train me, pal, and I don’t appreciate it.”

The trainer was baffled, and tried to get Ike to work with him, but Ike flat out refused. No amount of treats could entice him into cooperating. After 45 minutes of the one-hour session, the trainer quit trying, and said, “He’s a tough one. I suggest that you enroll him in our academy. I’ll take him for three weeks, work hard, and when you pick him up, he’ll be a changed dog. The cost is $2000.” I declined, and not just because of the price. When I watched Ike skid across the floor and defy the trainer, I decided that I liked him just the way he was.

Postscript: Ike’s puppy behavior was quite typical of bulldogs, I learned. They continue to act like puppies for two years. Eventually, he mellowed out and now spends most of his day sleeping and chewing giant rawhide bones. He still loves to play; some neighbors have puppies that he romps with until he tires out and decides to plop down. As gentle as he is with these dogs one-fifth his size, he is just as protective of them. Recently, when a strange dog lunged at one of his puppy friends, Ike went from docile and jovial to full on ready-to-attack mode, showing a ferocity that I had never seen before, ready to throw down with a large aggressive dog that got too close to his puppies. As for Ike and me, we still butt heads over things such as who gets the good spot on the couch and how far we are going to walk, and I still win. When I said I wanted a dog that was more suited to me, he was exactly what I meant.


Ike, with a puppy friend

The Bar is Over...

...and now all I'm left with is the thought, 'Did I get 60% of the questions right needed to pass?'

Actually, I've found the best way to reassure yourself is to remember that only 20% of people fail. The trick is to count that 20% out and realize you're not one of them.

Here are my calculations based on my classroom of 50 bar exam takers:

* 5 people sweating freakishly who's skin broke out during the 6 hour test. I'll assume they freaked out and failed. That's 10%
* Two people didn't show up, and are counted as fails. That's 4%
* One girl's phone went off and got kicked out and counted as a fail. Another 2%.
* Guy with a ponytail obviously has very poor judgment which I'm sure will be reflected on the bar. Another 2%.
* Southerner who I'm sure will miss all the cosanguinity questions on the Family Law portion. We'll give him 50/50 odds so that's 1%.
* Idiot, who after hearing the instructions that he was to have nothing in front of him except pencils and his ID, asked "My wallet's in my pocket. Is that OK?"...Wait a minute, that was me.

Anonymous Lawyer Book Review

We both had a chance to read Jeremy Blachman’s Anonymous Lawyer earlier this month, and we both agreed that it was surprisingly good. I say “surprisingly” not because I don’t like the Anonymous Lawyer blog, but because was able to create a conflict with a definable story arc while sticking to the core theme of the blog (a hiring partner at a large firm blogging about firm life).

The entire book is told through blog posts and email exchanges, and this is done very effectively. The blog posts in the book take on the same over-the-top tone that the posts on his blog do; you know he is exaggerating, but you are never sure by how much, while the emails serve the purpose to move the story along and humanizing him (to a small degree). Critics of the blog (and undoubtedly the book) are typically defenders of the big firm lifestyle, who dismiss the blog and the book as a wholly inaccurate portrayal of BigLaw. That criticism might be valid, but the fact that so many other who work in BigLaw agree that Anonymous Lawyer is eerily like their real life jobs makes me wonder if it isn’t all just a matter of perception. Some have accused Russ and I of being anti-BigLaw; this really isn’t the case. Most people who I have met who want a firm job know exactly what they are getting themselves into, and I admire that. Others think they do, but find a reality much different from their expectations. The truth, like with most things, probably lies in the middle. I have always said that people who want a big firm job deserve exactly what they get, whether that is a satisfaction from having a career at the top of the industry and a very high salary, or depression and disappointment from getting involved in a lifestyle that they couldn’t handle.

An underlying theme that I gathered from the book is that Anonymous Lawyer is a deeply depressed individual who has tried to fill emotional voids with career achievements and the accompanying prestige. But it doesn’t always work out this way. One of my favorite parts of the book had a blog post about his upcoming high school reunion, and how he was looking forward to showing all the people from high school how successful and powerful he was. The next blog post expressed deep disappointment about how none of his classmates had heard of the firm or even knew what a partner did, and generally didn’t really care either. Jeremy did a great job of exploring how within the legal community, title and prestige mean everything but that outside of the legal community, those things are meaningless to the non-lawyer, and those who think otherwise are just heroes in their own minds. Ultimately, the book comes to a point where the reader is left rooting for Anonymous Lawyer to succeed, despite how unlikable he is. The story is fast paced and easy to read, well-written and cleverly executed, and no matter what your take on the big firm life is, a must-read.

Buy it here

Let's Make A Deal

It's no secret that much of my law school "success" can be attributed to commercial outlines. I amassed quite a collection of them over the years, and since I have no use for them, why not sell them to you, the reader.

For my money, the best outlines on the market are Gilbert's, and thus, that is the brand I have. These will cost you upwards of $30 each if you buy them new, but I'll sell these outlines (which are like new) for much cheaper.

The 1L Package- This will get you Con Law, Civ Pro, Torts, Contracts, and Crim Pro for the low, low price of $50 plus $8 shipping. So for $58, you get five commercial outlines, a value of over $130, and I'l throw in a Crim Law-In a Nutshell for free. So that is five commercial outline, mint condition, plus a nutshell book, for $58. That's quite a deal folks. (Note: If crim pro isn't required the first year and you don't want it for later, I'll take it out and sell the other four, plus the nutshell book, for $48. First come first serve.)

The Business Nerd Package- For the upper level law student with a business background, there is going to be much temptation to take classes related to your business knowledge. That's why I put together this package of commerical outlines for Securities Regulations, Individual Income Tax, and Taxation of Business Entities (i.e., Corporate Tax, as mentioned in Confessions of A Bad Law Student) for the price of $30 plus $8 shipping. Any two of these books will be $35 total with shipping, and an individual book will be $20 with shipping. Again, first come first serve.

If you are interested, email me at barelylegalblog@gmail.com and we'll work it out.


***UPDATE***All the books have been sold. Thanks to all those who inquired

Recent Email Exchange

From: Mike
To: Russ
Subject: The Hills
Date: Wed, 19 July 2006 20:47:28 -0500

My favorite show on TV right now is The Hills; but it reminds me of a quote from Daisy in The Great Gatsby: “I'm glad it's a girl. And I hope she'll be a fool -- that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.”



From: Russ
To: Mike
Subject: Re: The Hills
Date: Wed, 19 July 2006 20:55:12 -0500

I don’t think anything could better sum up your odd combination of lowbrow and highbrow tastes than that email you just sent me.

Each To His Own

During Law School orientation they tour you through the campus. You look around during the tour and it smacks of familiarity: classes with the same people all day, lockers, a cafeteria. Then it hits you and you realize, ‘This place is set up exactly like high school!’

Naturally, you revert to your high school instincts and your mind races, ‘Gotta fit in! What clique do I belong to? Who am I better than? Who am I beholden to?’

I quickly found a group of similarly preppy white guys (which in law school are in overabundance) to hang out with. Comfortable in my clique, there was nothing left to do but hope they’d open up football tryouts as I was now 60 lbs heavier than I was in high school.

Not all people see law school as high school, though. Some see it as a “do over” for undergrad. For them, law school holds the promise of parties, girls, and drinking. One such character was a fellow by the name of Jonathan.

Jonathan hadn’t matriculated directly into law school from undergrad but had worked a few years and was glad to be back on campus. While the rest of us were still dipping our toe into law school social scene with trepidation, Jonathan was wallowing in it. Jonathan talked to everyone, hosted social events, invited himself to others.

When we all picked our seats the first day, everyone segregated themselves: Me and the preppy guys in the middle left, some jocks discussing fantasy football in the back row, and 50 nerds taking most of the other seats (I think I saw some Magic cards, even). Jonathan refused to fall into a clique, though. In fact, he decided to sit in the hot girls row.

I have to admit I was impressed. Jonathan seemed to be having good and regular conversations before and after class with the hot girls thanks to that seat.

‘Maybe this wasn’t high school, actually,’ I thought, ‘If those hot girls will talk to Jonathan then the high school social dynamic must truly and finally be broken. At last, law students have risen above the base human need to divide and conquer through social positioning’

Then one day the hot girls all showed up early to class. The entire “hot girl row” was filled because now there was one chair missing, Jonathan’s chair.

When Jonathan finally showed up he had to sit in the front row with the old guy and the LLM, literally inches from the professors spittling lectures.

After that day, a new calm pervaded the room. The hot girls occupied their row unmolested. The jocks dominated the last row. Jonathan slinked in each morning to join nerds in the front, and once again, the universe was in balance.

Fun With Apartment Hunting

I am in the midst of apartment hunting, which is always a pain. My search criteria includes “not the trendy area with lots of yuppie jerkoffs,” “not the trendy area with lots of pretentious artsy types,” and “not the ghetto.” My task is even more difficult because of my dog, Ike. I have to find apartments which will let me have a 50 pound dog live there. Before I bother to go look at a place, I call first to make sure they allow pets, and allow pets of Ike’s carriage. I found one such place today, but the lady informed me that no 1st floor units were available, and that Ike was too big to live on the second floor. “I’m sorry, we only allow pets under 35 pounds in second and third floor apartments,” she told me. I asked why.

“Dogs over 35 pounds are too noisy to live above someone, so we limit them to the ground floor.” She sounded slightly irritated.

“I understand that,” I said. “But let me ask you this: I weigh 220 pounds, and if I didn’t have a dog, I could rent any unit you have, right?”

“Um…well, yes…I don’t understand where you are going with this…”

“You said that a dog over 35 pounds is too noisy to live above someone, so they have to stay on the ground floor. Well, I weigh four times what my dog weighs, and I could clomp and stomp around all day and it would be fine, correct? Which is noisier, me or my dog?”

“Uh…I guess you are…I never really thought about it like that. I guess it’s a valid point.”

“Okay then…so can I come look at the second floor apartment?”

“No, like I said, your dog is too heavy, and that’s the policy. And from what I am gathering, I’m not sure we would want you living on the second floor either,”

The Douchebags Speak Out

I still wear my high school shirt and hoodie. I went to a competitive NYC high school and I am DAMN PROUD. (not to mention, the high school is a big plus for hiring as well within NYC)

You should just stop picking on "douchebags," you might be more wrong than right.

Heather


Heather,

I'm totally with you. I still wear my Kaiser High School Track Letterman's jacket, whenever I can. I'm DAMN PROUD, too, of my 5 min 32 sec mile (and employers all want a guy who's quick on his feet, right?)

Russ

Dude...

...what is up with #16 on your how not to be a douchebag post? What’s wrong with wearing fraternity clothes in law school? This is just some bullshit anti-Greek hysteria. You were probably that guy in college who didn’t join a frat and spent the whole time jealous that they were having more fun than you.

Dude, actually, I was in a frat. That’s where Russ and I met. It was a blast; all of my best friends are from my fraternity and I wouldn’t trade that experience for the world. I think people who don’t go Greek are missing out on a great opportunity. However, when I left college, I left my fraternity days behind me. I gave away almost all of my shirts to other guys in the house. I stopped tying my identity to some Greek letters. I know what you’re going to say: “But if you have an interview with another person from your fraternity, you’re way ahead of the other candidates.” Yeah, I know that. It’s on my resume (in small letters). If anyone actually cares that I made a choice to have a social life when I was 18, and wants to give me a job because of it, all the better.

As for wearing your fraternity clothes when you’re in law school, I suppose there is one acceptable situation: Hangover wear. If you are out drinking one night, wake up and decide to go to class for some reason, it’s acceptable to throw on a fraternity shirt along with your warm-up pants or jeans. However, rules still apply: The shirt cannot be tucked in. A tucked in shirt shows intent to look stylish, and you simply cannot look stylish in a fraternity shirt if you are no longer in college. Hooded sweatshirts can only be worn when your day of classes starts earlier than 10am. And fraternity hats should not be worn under any circumstance, unless you are going bald and want to hide your shame.

Wearing Greek shirts in law school is the equivalent of wearing high school letter jackets in college. If you do it, people will notice and you are “that guy”. Besides, wearing Greek letters in law school doesn’t make much sense. Why announce to the world you are an elitist in an institution full of them?

Bar Review Observation # 4

Barbri was brutal today. The subject was MPT which, apparently, is just fact spotting (learned that 1L year) and instruction following (learned that in 3rd grade). It was so slow and pointless that a few people left during the first break. Then people started walking out during the lecture. The crowd started to thin out and until all that was left was a few self-loathing souls starring at a $2500 video.

Now you’d think this would happen often during 4 hour lectures about Commercial Paper. But this was, believe it or not, the first mass walk-out.

Then I remembered a humorous story of another walk out.

My friend Brett from Blafayette invited his grandparents out to visit him in Blafayette. What does a 24 year old guy do with his grandparents? Usually visit them, eat your grandma’s pot roast, lift something heavy that your grandpa can’t without hurting his back, and listen to how your cousin Jeremy is med school.

Brett had to fill the evening somehow. His grandparents were old, so he thought they might like to see someone else who is old. So, he bought tickets to George Carlin.

Now, to say Brett’s grandparents are conservative is an understatement. There were two things they didn’t stand for, democrats and, except for the occasional N-word, profanity. Needless to say, George Carlin’s liberal attitude towards both politics and censorship didn’t go over well. Brett’s grandparents walked out and the three of them settled for enjoying an awkward ice cream together instead.

I sat in class for another 5 minutes and then walked out, myself, while professor Spak kept jabbering on.

“Man,” I said to myself, “This guy is no George Carlin.”

20 Tips to Avoid Being A Douchebag in Law School

We have been getting lots of requests lately from anxious 1Ls-to-be, asking for advice on a variety of topics, from “how close should I live to school” to “what is the best method to highlight my casebooks”. My advice to them is not nearly as narrow as their questions. Simply put, I tell them not to go. Sadly, these folks don’t realize that if they are asking me for law school advice, things probably aren’t going to work out quite like they hope. But if they refuse to listen to me, and insist on starting school in the fall, I will dispense one crucial piece of advice: Don’t be a douchebag. Here’s how:

1) Don’t ask random bloggers about how to highlight your casebooks.

2) Don’t be the person at orientation talking about how you have already done the reading for the first day.

3) Actually, don’t read for the first day of class before orientation starts.

4) Don’t make a color coded graph of when you are going to study and for what. And if you do, please, don’t share it with other people. (Seriously, I actually was subjected to a detailed explanation of someone’s study plan at orientation.)

5) The following words should never leave your mouth: “I pulled an all-nighter at the library”; “I started outlining after the first week”; “I started outlining after the first month”; “I started outlining before Thanksgiving Break”; “My outline is longer than yours.”

6) Don’t announce your intentions to be on Law Review, even if it’s the one goal that would make your life complete.

7) And don’t “coincidently” buddy up to 2Ls on Law Review either. Your intentions couldn’t be more obvious if you sent them a dozen roses and a pair of your underwear.

8) Don’t go introduce yourself to your professors. They don’t care who you are, nor should you want them to know who you are.

9) Don’t wear work clothes to school unless you either just came from work or are going directly to work. No one is impressed.

10) Unless you have had major surgery on your back, do not buy a rolling book suitcase thing. If you can’t carry your books on your back, hit the gym.

11) Don’t have a douchebaggy name like Jordon, Jacob, Moiz, Kyle, or Ethan. Seriously consider a name change.

12) Don’t email us and announce your intentions to start a blog and become our successors. If we had a dollar for every time someone did this, we’d have enough to buy one of each item on the McDonald’s Extra Value menu.

13) Don’t brag about having lunch with your professor.

14) In fact, don’t have lunch with professors.

15) Don’t raise your hand and arrogantly give the professor an answer. You came here to learn the law, don’t act like you already know it. You don’t know shit.

16) Don’t wear your fraternity shirts to law school. I don’t care how great your Kappa Sigma Fall 2004 Annual Moonlight Semiformal Barn Dance was; now you just look like a tool.

17) Do not refer to books like One L, or Law School Confidential for guidance. Even if you have read these books, never ever, when a situation arises, say “Well, in
One L, Turow says…”

18) Do not, under any circumstances, raise your hand when there are five minutes or fewer left in class. And if someone who routinely does this should happen to get struck by a car, his classmates cannot be blamed if they don’t rush to his aid.

19) BarBri will try to get you to reserve your seat as a 1L. Keep walking. It’s probably a good idea to make sure you can pass first year classes before you start worrying about the bar exam.

20) Finally, don’t be the person that schleps the Westlaw water bottles the size of a big gulp around all the time, and causes a huge backup at the water fountain because it takes seven minutes to fill. Just because it's free doesn't mean you have to use it. Save a shred of dignity.

Law School Cool

Mike and Russ,

I have noticed a running theme on your blog that you like to call law students nerds, and generally say that they aren't cool. Speak for yourselves. I don't know where you guys went to school, but here, there are lots of cool people. Not everyone is a nerd, and some people are really cool. So before casting every law student as a nerd, realize you haven't been every school and met every law student.

Other than that, love the blog.

Chris

(If you use this email on the blog, please don't print my real name)

Chris,

Oops, I accidently used your real name. Oh well.

The fact that you analyzed our blog enough to extract a "running theme" from our posts proves your own nerdiness right there. But to address your overall concerns, let me pose this to you: Coolness (whatever it may be) is, like all other things, relative. Think about the coolest character in TV history: The Fonz. Leather jacket, motorcycle, greasy hair...the man was the essence of cool. But look a little closer, and you'll realize that Fonzie wasn't really that cool. I mean, how cool can you be if the next coolest guy in your clique was Richie Cunningham? Throw in Ralph Malph and Potsy, and it's clear that The Fonz understood the Big Fish/Small Pond phenomenon. Surround yourself with nerds, and suddenly you look that much better.

Law school works in much the same way: A person with some decent social skills and a little bit of an attitude suddenly becomes The Fonz when surrounded by a sea of Richies, Ralphs, and Potsys. Had Fonzie tried to hang out with the other greasers, he would have gotten his ass kicked. That's why they hung out at the Asian guy's diner all the time. Make no mistake: Darry, Dally, Ponyboy, Two-Bit, and the rest of the Outsiders wouldn't have let him into their group. He reeked of Soc.

So when you see a "cool" law student, remember: The Fonz was just Henry Winkler with a pompadour.

Just Got A New Ipod

...and it has changed my life. Below are scenes from the past week:

Street Activist: "Excuse me, Sir. Do you have a moment for Greenpeace?"

Russ: "Brown Sugar, How come you taste so good..."

--------------------------

Homeless Guy: "Spare Change?"

Russ: "California knows how to party, knows how to party..."

--------------------------

Girlfriend: "Could you take the garbage out?"

Russ: "Gloria. Gloria. I think they got your number..."

In another life....

While I have a girlfriend whom I love deeply, a man's mind can't help but wander. If I were single, I'd definitely date a woman who had a big firm job.

Some guys would find a big firm associate girlfriend emasculating but, for me, it would be the perfect woman: At Work All The Time + Lots of Money = Less Nagging + Can Afford a Maid to Pick Up After Me.

Here's how I imagine it going....

Russ: Wow, 11 pm? You're home late.

Big Law Girlfriend: Yeah, a statute of limitations was going to run and we had to decide whether we were going to file or let it run to reduce our own joint liability. I have to have a memo on the partner's desk by tomorrow morning, so I still have work to do.

Russ: I know what you mean. The TV was on the fritz, today, and I had to figure out if it was the cable or the TiVo box that was broken or I was going to miss a "Magnum PI" re-run...Don't worry. All I missed was the theme song.

But the real fun would be attending Big Firm social events with the Big Firm Girlfriend...

Big Firm Male Associate: Can't complain about the salary. I live in a big apartment down town.

Russ: So do I.

Big Firm Male Associate: And I make impulse purchases without looking at the price tag.

Russ: So do I.

Big Firm Male Associate: But, I have to work slavishly in a high pressure environment.

Russ: So did I...until my girlfriend bought an electric cat litter cleaners. Now my entire day is free.

What could have been.

Recent Exchange

Russ: Hey, do you download music?
Mike: When I do, I use Napster.
Russ: You actually pay for it?
Mike: Yeah, if I really want it.
Russ: You're crazy.
Mike: Man, I can't sit here and steal music in good conscience while the surviving members of Blind Melon go without that second Jaguar. That just isn't right.

Popular

Go ahead and google the words "barely legal." Believe it or not, we are the #2 google search result for that famous phrase. In this porn addled world, that's quite an accomplishment.

We've often speculated when Larry Flynt will serve us with a cease and desist order so, until then, thanks for reading!

Don't believe us? Think we're just cynical?

...Well the Wall Street Journal agrees with us. Here's there latest article. (You need a password to reead it so I'll just repost it below). In the June 23rd, 2006, Wall Street Journal, Cameron Stracher writes:

The legal profession is really two professions: the elite lawyers and everyone else. Most of the former start out at big law firms. Many of the latter never find gainful legal employment. Instead, they work at jobs that might be characterized as "quasi-legal": paralegals, clerks, administrators, doing work for which they probably never needed a J.D.

Although hard data about the nature of these jobs is difficult to come by (and relies on self-reporting, which is inherently unreliable), the mean salary for graduates of top 10 law schools is $135,000 while it is $60,000 for "tier three" schools. It's certainly possible that tier-three graduates tend to gravitate toward lower-paying public-interest and government jobs, but this lower salary may also reflect the nonlegal nature of many of these jobs and the fact that these graduates are settling for anything that will pay the bills.

At $38,000 a year for law school, plus living expenses, law-school graduates certainly have a lot of debt ($60,000 on average, upon graduation). For this price, college students and their parents should be thinking harder about their choices. When I went to law school, nearly everyone tried to convince me that doing so would "keep my options open." All this really means is: "You can still be a lawyer."

If I wanted to be a screenwriter, waiting tables would have kept my options open, too. In fact, many wannabe screenwriters find themselves going to law school, misled by adults into thinking that it will help them get into the movie business. It won't. Sure, you can be a talent agent or a movie producer with a law degree, but you can be one without a degree, too. Most of the skills you learn in law school (and legal practice) won't help you make a movie, and the few that will may not be worth the cost (more than $120,000, including tuition, living expenses, as well as three years of forgone experience and salary). Rather than keeping options open, the crushing debt of law school often slams doors shut, pushing law students to find the highest-paying job they can and forever deferring dreams of anything else.

It's time those of us inside the profession did a better job of telling others outside the profession that most of us don't earn $160,000 a year, that we can't afford expensive suits, flashy cars, sexy apartments. We don't lunch with rock stars or produce movies. Every year I'm surprised by the number of my students who think a J.D. degree is a ticket to fame, fortune and the envy of one's peers -- a sure ticket to the upper middle class. Even for the select few for whom it is, not many last long enough at their law firms to really enjoy it.

There's something wrong with a system that makes a whole lot of people pay a whole lot of money for jobs that are not worth it, or that have no future. If we wanted to be honest, we would inform students that law school doesn't keep their options open. Instead, we should say that if they work hard and do well, they can become lawyers.

To all those with big firm jobs congrats on "winning" the lottery. To all those who can't get them, remember what you learned in law school: You cannot discharge student loans when declaring bankruptcy.

Brainwashing

Naivety can lead people to do some dangerous things. One minute you are a lonely college freshman who gets invited to a Bible study, and the next thing you know you are getting your head shaved, changing your name to Elmo, and are a full fledged member of the local cult.

I admit that I was pretty naïve about the whole thing when I was a 1L, and that’s how I came to join the law school version of a cult: The study group. Like a cult, the study group exists mainly for the comfort of the members. They gain no actual benefits, aside from a false belief that they are on the path to enlightenment. Both the cult and the study group are led by one person, who acts like they are all knowing but in reality are full of shit. And like cult members, study groupers are quick to attribute their academic success to their membership, but are quick to absolve the study group of any blame when their grades don’t turn out as they hoped.

Halfway into my first week as a law student, the people with whom I shared a row in Torts asked me if I wanted to join them for lunch. I had been talking to these people, two guys and two girls, since orientation, and they seemed alright, so I accepted. After lunch, one girl pulled me aside and said, “Would you like to join our study group? We meet every day at 8am.” I didn’t know what to say. I have never liked studying in groups, but everyone seemed to be dividing off, and I didn’t want to be left out. So like the lonely college freshman invited to the Bible study, I told them I would.

The next day, I strolled in around 8:45, found the room they had reserved, and went in. The four of them all looked at me, annoyed. I set up my little work station, and we got down to business. The topic at hand was a case assigned for property. I don’t remember what it was about exactly, something to do with land use rights. The leader of the group started off by saying, “Okay, first lets figure out the procedural history.” They all scanned the case for clues as to how it reached the state supreme court, while I informed them that from what was given, it was not readily ascertained from the case. They tried to piece together the few bits of information about it that were included, but could not come to a consensus. All the while I was suggesting we move on to the important part of the case, which fell upon deaf ears. For 45 minutes, the argument continued. Lexis and Westlaw were pulled up, a civil procedure book was retrieved from the other side of the library, the librarian was consulted, but still, the procedural history could not be figured out. Finally I snapped. “Look, there isn’t some clue you have yet to discover, it just isn’t there. So quit wasting all your time trying to figure it out, and worry about the important part of the case.”

“But what if he asks us about it,” one guy whined.

“Then tell the asshole that you spent 45 fucking minutes trying to figure it out, admit you are a failure as a law student, and then explain the important parts of the case, the parts that actually matter.” They all looked at me with half-shocked expressions, and without saying another word, I packed up my stuff and left. As I was walking out of the room, I heard one girl say, “Maybe it was an appeal by the defense….”

I left the study group like people leave all religions: still confused about the world and my place in it, but at least having eliminated one dumb way to go through it. Three years later I can safely say I never drank any of the law school's kool-aid.

One more thing: when one of them asked the professor about the procedural history after class, he said, “I don’t know…It doesn’t matter anyway.”

The Tao of Mike

A little while back, I was on my way to eat dinner at my parents’ house when traffic came to a standstill. When I finally crept past the cause of the delay, I saw two cars which had been in a pretty bad accident. My immediate reaction was not “I bet the blue car is at fault,” or “The white car probably has a great negligence claim,” but rather, “That sucks.”

At dinner, my mom spoke of a customer of hers who hadn’t paid his bill. When my mom asked me for what kind of options she had, I didn’t say “Well, he is clearly in violation of the contract and you have remedies available,” or “When I get home I can do some research and get back to you,” but rather, “I can go break his thumbs if you want.”

Later that evening, I came across several police cars which seemed to be searching a car that they had pulled over for drugs. The words “probable cause”, “Terry stop”, or “1983 violation” never even entered my mind. All I could think of was “Busted!”

Then it suddenly dawned on me. The law student in me was dying, and the old me was reemerging. Over the next few days I noticed other changes too. I could watch Law & Order without correcting glaring inaccuracies. The word “reading” took on a positive connotation. I no longer felt the need to reeducate people who want to go to law school; instead I just pitied them. In short, a new sort of inner peace and calm had come to me.

I asked Russ about this, and he had noticed the same thing. “Law school is an unhealthy place,” he said. “Black is white, B’s are average, and nerds are cool. Once you leave, it’s like a weight is lifted.”

I feel confident that my inner peace is going to be with me for a while. Other recent grads won’t be so lucky. Once they get out there and start being real lawyers, inner peace will only be a faraway fantasy, right next to “happy marriage” and “relaxing vacation.” But don’t feel too bad for them. Who needs inner peace when you have Prozac and bourbon?

Careful What You Wish For

Recently, a reader with whom I regularly chat with via IM had a cryptic away message up, and I asked her what it meant. Rather than tell me, she made me try to guess, and a game of 20 questions ensued. I came close, but didn't quite get the answer, so she said she'd tell me if I did a post mentioning her blog. Since I am quite childish and cannot stand to not know something, I jumped at this offer. She told me, and it was worth it.

So here ya go: http://witcheseatcalculators.blogspot.com/