Well, these are dangerous times, and sometimes my strong opinions bleed through the light and frothy tone that I generally try to maintain.
You try being a both a lawyer and funny at the same time: By the time you finish inserting all the necessary qualifications and weasel words, much of the yuks have been leeched out of the text.
I have seen one "legal humorist" that usually makes the grade: Sean Carter has a regular feature in the ABA "e-report." I hate him, of course -- but only because I believe he's getting paid for his efforts and I'm insanely jealous.
Roland Burris, the former Illinois Attorney General, once said that most lawyers were like "jackleg preachers" (that is, preachers without a pulpit). And, as I have demonstrated even in this short blog through even date herewith, I sometimes sermonize.
And a lot of lawyers think they're writers -- Scott Turow has a host of imitators scribbling in longhand on the train home each evening. Of course, I hate Turow, too -- nothing personal, only that he's been so successful. And I am a little concerned by the fact that he's still practicing law. On the other hand, I think it was Turow who told the story of going to a writer's workshop: He wanted to learn to write like Hemingway; everyone else there seemed to want to learn to drink like Hemingway. Anyone who tells a story like that can't be entirely bad.
But Messrs. Turow and Grisham have cornered the market on legal thrillers. I'm more interested in the absurdity of the practice. And I'd really be interested in getting paid for it.
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