
Lawyers seated on chairs (not shown) made of gold Sacajawea coins.
A future law school grad (who also happened to be a Juggalo) emailed me the other day: “I am graduating law school in [a] few months but don’t want to bury my life in briefs. Instead, I’d rather write. Any advice?”
Hmm. My initial mental reaction was fatherly (which tends to happen, especially when you’re an anxiety-ridden father): “Shit son, you got L-O-A-N-S to pay back, and swapping blogroll links or shoveling shit off the floor of a content mill can barely sustain life, let alone Ivy League debts. Follow the money, and by that I mean: BECOME A FUCKING LAWYER. Be a rich asshole. Snort coke off a stripper’s leg and buy cars just so you can set them on fire. Sail yachts. Buy caviar and throw it away. Dine out three times a day and invest in gold. Always have the latest smart phone, TV, car, swords, helicopters, whatever (I don’t know what rich people covet, I’m poor, because I’M A WRITER!), and buy drinks for all your friends. NEVER USE A COUPON. Leave all the lights on in your house(s), apartment(s), condo(s), and vacation home(s). Punch a nun, bribe a cop (in that order). Donate to hopeless political candidates. Make paper airplanes out of $100 bills, launch them from the window of your corner office. Live by a set of rules I will never understand. Do whatever you want because, well, you’d be rich enough to raise hell and qualified to lawyer your way out of any/all legal pickles. And anyhow, who becomes a writer nowadays?” Read More »














