Lawyers, bunions & Money

Been thinking about the law and lawyers lately. Not just because our esteemed former president finds himself in an XXXL vat of hot water lately.

By the way, did you know that in addition to Pride Month, June was also Unofficial Shadenfreude Month? 

In addition to the 7 indictments brought forth by NY attorney Alvin Bragg (how appropriate) TFG is now looking at 38 federal indictments handed down by "deranged, Marxist/Fascist" radical Jack Smith. Even better, if that's at all possible, many of Trump's former attorneys are now seeking their own attorneys. 

In the malapropped words of Winston Churchill, "It's a FUBAR, tucked inside a shitstorm, wrapped inside a clusterfuck."

But I've also been obsessing with the lawyers with whom I had recent close personal contact with. 

I'm still not done flushing my late spring jury duty completely out of my system. Mostly, because it's three weeks of my life I can never recover. And because the $169.83 I received for my service and my daily grind into downtown LA canceled out a week's worth of unemployment benefits I have come to count on.

Guess I'll be eating flash-frozen Talapia instead of my mercury filled Atlantic Salmon. Thanks a lot douchebag who hurt his foot and can no longer shtup his wife with any regularity.

More specifically, I've been going over the performances given by both sides. And lets not make any mistakes, lawyers, particularly personal injury lawyers are performers at best.  

I remember how the defense attorney, representing Keck Medical Center at USC, framed his interviewing questions while selecting the unfortunate 14 (12 jurors and 2 alternates) by asking if any of the potential candidates harbored any misgivings about people bringing "frivolous lawsuits."

That phrasing, innocently posed before the trial even began, remained in my mind. And I suspect the others jurors as well. 

It was not by accident. 

He knew it was a frivolous lawsuit. Even the plaintiff's attorney knew it was a frivolous lawsuit. And by the end of the three week ordeal, WE, the folks deciding the case knew it was a frivolous lawsuit because that pejorative seed (which would never have been allowed during the trial) was ingenuously planted by a clever attorney.

In hindsight, I was also struck at how the plaintiff's attorney fumbled so badly and overplayed his hand. Claiming an obvious and inconsequential mistake in the electronic medical records amounted to intentional Document Falsification, or even Forgery. 

Oh for fuck's sake.

And this is no regular lawyer. I did a little internet sleuthing and found out he's quite the big time Hollywood guy. I won't divulge his name, because frankly I know how litigious lawyers can be. It's been said a good lawyer can sue a Ham Sandwich. Well, I'm no Ham, or any species of meat, Sandwich and frankly don't need to be anywhere near a courthouse for a very long time. Or, ever again. 

I may not be the best person to advise on the matter seeing as I've now been on two jury panels and served as Jury Foreman both times, but I did learn a very interesting way to escape your mandatory service. And this only applies to a civil case. 

As I was leaving the Stanley Mosk courthouse and making a silent vow to my ass that it would never come in contact with its unforgiving cement benches, the defense attorney told me about the one potential juror who got called in before the judge. She got out scot-free, by explaining in a note, that she was raised in a military family. Her dad was a Marine. As such, she was taught that "pain was just weakness leaving the body."

Ipso, facto, she found it impossible, no matter how compelling the case may or may not (in this case, may not) have been, there was no way in the world she would be able to find for a some crybaby plaintiff. 

No way, at all.

The judge gave her a piece of his mind. Which mattered little to this tattooed, hard living woman, who strutted out of court with her well-earned walking papers in her hand.

Semper Fi.