How long is law school? A coupla years? Three? And is it actually called ‘law school?’ Or is it called ‘clever school?’ I think it should be called clever school. Pretty much you can learn the basics of law with a six-month intensive training program. “Legal is that which does not call forth guys with guns.” All else may be derived, like mathematical equations from some fundamental axiom. Apparently the balance of the two- or three-year training program over there is devoted to learning how to pull off scams.
I spent six months learning how to do stand-up. Yes, yes, I know; to hear most comedians tell it, you need twenty years to get good at it. I think it’s closer to six months. I figure that if you can’t pull off a one-hour show after six months, you might want to find yourself a new line of work. I remember when I lived in Orlando, there was this guy who advertised in the Thrifty Nickel each week, “Garage door openers installed. Twenty years’ experience.”
I’ve installed two or three in my day. I think I’ve pretty much got it down. How much time do you need learning how to install garage door openers?
How much time does a comedian need to learn how to do comedy?
How much time does a lawyer need to learn how to be clever? How to defile his environment by opening his mouth? ‘Defile.’ ‘Defil…a…tional?’ Maybe it should be called Defilational School. Yes, that’s it: whereas your clever profession pollutes the human experience on this planet with your mere existence, we’ll call your unsavory guild’s hallowed halls ‘Defilational School.’
Your organized crime syndicate of a “profession” has no moral cause to obstruct my movement in my chosen field of expertise, which is stand-up comedy. You don’t get to dream up new words of art and then stick them like Post-It Notes to the object of your choice, thereby making illegal that which is legal by other means. You don’t get to engage in that kind of passive/aggressive behavior. That is the province of the comedian alone.
Do you key people’s cars when you lose a case? Do you huff and puff and wheel around in your office chairs and type some lawyer mumbo jumbo into a computer and make the victor a smelly ol’ terriss? Do you come huffing down the street, bloodied and embarrassed, shotgun in hand because you want a do-over?
You lost, fair and square. You just stood there and bled. If you’d had a case you would have brought it by now.
I have zero respect for you.
Buncha tough guys, ramming your frauds through the criminal “justice” system over at that laughingstock of a village idiot you call a jurisdiction? That mush-mouthed parade of idiocy? And you know what? You can’t even take offense at the beating you got. There is honor even among thieves. Even the thief knows that he has no moral cause to feel outrage when he’s caught. Them’s the rules. If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime, as they say. If you can’t handle a righteous beatdown right here in public, then don’t run your con. You got caught. You always knew there was the risk of that. Even thieves like you aspire to be party to the gentlemen’s agreement whereby one’s calling you out on your con does not confer upon you a moral claim to revenge. Who sought to con whom here?
You had a pretty good run with your con. Your color-of-law fraud. What does your dirty guild call a scam that runs successfully for decades? “Part of the social fabric?” “National fabric?” “Legal fabric?” Something like that. I like how your dirty profession seeks to institutionalize a con job by saying, “Well, we’ve successfully run our scam long enough now that we’ll just go ahead and make it legal by saying that it’s part of the fabric of society.”
Uh huh. It fits right in with your dirty profession’s dirty corpus. Well guess what? The rest of humanity doesn’t acknowledge your “fabric of society” argument. We’re simply not as filthy as a burglar or a scam artist or a lawyer. We don’t want lies woven into the fabric of society.
Yours is an especially oblivious guild. You do understand, of course, that decent society is compelled to press to the nose a perfumed handkerchief when lawyers come around. How do you do it? How do you tolerate being so dirty? You stink of ass.
You will terminate all punitive action against me immediately, to include keying my car, running criminal background checks on my telephone correspondents, your designation of me as a smelly ol’ terriss, and whatever other kook filth may issue forth from your filth holes.
No one is interested in a lawyer’s filth.
It’s the Filth Department.
Disgusting, filthy people. That’s what I think of your trashy profession.
Hibbledee. jibbledee. dibbledee. doo. I won against the IRS and so can you.
You may go.
I am America’s Senior Comedian. Thank you for your kind attention in this matter.