Campaign Refinancing

BY ANDREW J. McCLURG

[Written before Congress passed campaign reform in 2002 in the form of the bipartisan McCain-Feingold bill, parts of have been struck down by the U.S. Supreme Court as violative of the First Amendment.]

Campaign finance reform has played a contentious role in this year’s electioneering, yet many people still are confused by the intricacies of this important issue.

Voters, not being as smart as elected representatives, see campaign finance reform in simple terms. Surveys show 100 percent of ordinary dumb voters “strongly agree” with the statement: “Anyone who regularly gives me large sums of money is a pal of mine.”

However, the issue is far more complicated, as proved by the fact that Congress has been unable to agree on it since first raised during the Madison administration. The good news is that opposing forces finally agreed to sit down and work out their differences. The bad news is their first meeting ended in a brawl over what time to adjourn for lunch.

Lawyers, as vital members of the political debate, need to know about campaign finance reform. Here are the most commonly asked questions:

Q. What exactly is “campaign finance reform”?

A. “Campaign finance reform” is a term used by persons seeking political office. Beltway etiquette rules prohibit candidates from speaking, writing or even thinking about the concept after 7 pm on election day.

Q. Many critics have the perception that special interests are “buying votes” with their contributions. What is being done to address this perception?

A. Long barraged by such complaints, some officials have proposed simply selling votes outright at a fair market price. “We’re sick and tired of being accused of backdoor dealings,” said one indignant senator.

Q. What is “soft money” and why do they call it that?

A. Soft money is money that, under our airtight election laws, contributors are prohibited from giving to candidates, so they give it to their friends to spend for them. As for the name, one historical theory is that early politicians preferred paper currency over bulky change, which slowed their movement to the next fundraiser.

Q. Opponents of campaign finance reform argue limitations on campaign contributions violate the first amendment. Is this true?

A. Yes. The argument is historically based. Due to a typographical error, a crucial clause was omitted from the first amendment. The amendment originally stated: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or pertaining to any other matter unless members get generously comped for it.” (emphasis added)

Q. Why did it take so long for Congress to require that groups sponsoring issue ads disclose their donors?

A. Because donors to groups like “Moms for Mother Earth” (Biohazard, Inc., Waste Dumps R Us and Ultraslime) complained that the truth puts them at an unfair disadvantage in the marketplace of ideas.

Q. Being a special interest sounds like fun. I like getting my own way. How do I know if my interests are “special” enough? I like to bowl and collect dead animals.

A. An interest qualifies as “special” if the holder is able to satisfy the four-part test set forth in §4678.03 of the Code of Federal Regulations:

1. Get out your checkbook.

2. Find the balance.

3. Count the number of digits.

4. If the total exceeds 6, you’re a special interest.

If you’re a less-than-special interest, just check the little presidential campaign box on your tax form each year. You will get exactly $3 of political clout.

Rocket Science

BY ANDREW J. McCLURG

The National Missile Defense (NMD) is the successor to President Reagan’s Star Wars initiative. The system is designed to protect us from unfriendly “rogue states” by blasting their missiles out of the sky with our missiles. The NMD should be of great interest to lawyers because if it doesn’t work, probate business may be picking up considerably in the future.

Unfortunately, despite a price tag of $60 billion, hitting “a bullet with a bullet” is proving as hard as ever. In June, the New York Times reported that NMD tests have been rigged to hide the fact that the interceptor missiles can’t distinguish decoys such as balloons from real warheads. The Times said the government is deliberately “dumbing down” future tests to increase the odds of success.

Officials deny decoy trouble, but a test in July raised eyebrows when the “kill vehicle” failed to detach from the interceptor rocket. According to a high-placed source, the kill vehicle’s fault codes were interpreted to say: “I refuse to suffer any more humiliation. I am not leaving this interceptor until you do something about those decoys.”

Now, ultra-top secret documents appearing in this month’s Los Alamos National Laboratory Tattler newsletter confirm that there are indeed bugs in the anti-missile system.

Field test #72 transcript

Defense Contractor: Direct hit!

General: Get out. We hit that missile?

DC: No sir. It appears to be a balloon.

General: Decoy?

DC: Birthday.

General: What the #$%# [redacted for national security reasons] is a birthday balloon doing in outer space?

DC: It wasn’t exactly outer space. It was at a Chuck E Cheese, somewhere in the Midwest as best we can tell.

General: I thought we dealt with the spherical decoy problem.

DC: With great success, I’d say. The interceptor hasn’t mistaken Venus for a warhead since Test #59. As for the moon, we just have to pray the enemy attacks during an eclipse.

Field test #201

DC: The interceptor has launched. This time we’ve equipped it with video so we can see how it behaves as it approaches the missile. The missile is coming into view.

General: What are all those flashing lights?

DC: Stadium scoreboards. Part of the new decoys. See how they spell out “DECOY” between “Touchdown” and “Awesome”?

General: What’s all that other stuff? Isn’t that Porky Pig?

DC: Yes sir. A float from last year’s Rose Bowl parade. We used a variety of decoys to refute critics who say the tests are unrealistic. We also launched the Statue of Liberty, some inflatable Miller-Lite cans and a couple of barns, in case someone claims we can’t hit the side of one. The kill vehicle is zeroing in. It’s going to hit the … no, the … no, the … (BIG EXPLOSION IN OUTER SPACE!)

General: Porky Pig?

DC: Reasonable mistake, general. The pig has a similar infrared signature to a Soviet SS-20 warhead, except it’s a different shape and ten thousand times bigger.

General: Another failure (sigh).

DC: To the contrary—an impressive triumph. Pig like that hits a major city, we’re talking some serious damage.

Hogwarts Torts

BY ANDREW J. McCLURG

Like many adults who were less than pleased to receive the news that they were expected to actually grow up one day, I love Harry Potter. For readers who have been heavily sedated or in trial for the past several years, Harry is the protagonist in J.K. Rowling’s bestselling books about a remarkable young wizard somewhere in England.

Why is Harry so remarkable? Two reasons. First, he saved the entire wizarding world while only a tot. Second, never in the history of education has a student been subject to as much tortious conduct as Harry Potter at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Harry finally got fed up and sought legal advice. In an amazing Harmless Error exclusive, here are the actual notes the solicitor took during the initial client interview:

Client. Harry Potter. Resides at number 4, Privet Drive (note possible separate action against aunt and uncle for false imprisonment). Insists all law office correspondence be delivered by overnight . . . owl?

Defendants. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Location: kept secret, probably to avoid service of process. Individual defendants include entire faculty, fellow students Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, and some chap named Voldemort, a/k/a You Know Who, d/b/a He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Premises liability. Defendant maintains the premises in an unreasonably dangerous condition, in breach of its duty to client, an invitee. Hazards include dungeons, trapdoors, a willow tree that beats people senseless, trolls, three-headed dogs, toxic potions, trick stairs into which students disappear, and a forbidden forest adjacent to the premises containing attractive nuisances such as werewolves, dementors and dark lords.

Gross negligence. Defendant sponsored a school competition known as the Triwizard Tournament, into which client was entered involuntarily. Rather than compete in age-appropriate contests such as three-legged races, participants were required to fight dragons, swim under freezing water for more than one hour, and negotiate a maze filled with monsters, hexes and curses.

Strict liability for keeping dangerous animals. Rubeus Hagrid, teacher of a required course in Care of Magical Creatures, shows conscious indifference to the welfare of Hogwarts students by recklessly exposing them to vicious animals, including most recently, Blast-Ended Screwts, which client describes as “ten-foot long, armored creatures with stingers, suckers and fire-blasting ends.”

Infliction of emotional distress. Professor Sibyll Trelawney, at all times acting within the scope of her employment as Hogwarts teacher of Divination, has engaged in a pattern of extreme and outrageous conduct intended to induce severe emotional distress in client by repeatedly prophesying his imminent and hideous death.

Assault. Upon client’s arrival for 4th year, one “Peeves” caused imminent apprehension of harmful bodily contact by dropping water balloons on client from the top of a magical staircase. Defendant has allowed Peeves to reside on the premises for hundreds of years despite full knowledge that he is a poltergeist with violent and malicious tendencies.

Products liability. Defendant knows or should know that two students—Fred and George Weasley—operate a business on school premises specializing in the manufacture of defective products such as Ton-Tongue Toffee and Canary Creams, the only utility of which is to cause laughter while consumer suffers gross tongue engorgement or feather sprouting.

Damages. Emotional trauma and permanent disfigurement (nasty scar on forehead).

Disposition. Bloke doesn’t want to sue! Only seeking advice on licensing his celebrity right of publicity. Referred him to Gilderoy Lockhart’s solicitor for advice.

Really Intellectual Property

BY ANDREW J. McCLURG

Every lawyer remembers the LSAT®. But how many people remember how incredibly hard it was, especially the analytical reasoning section? In writing an instructional guide to law school, I had occasion to revisit the LSAT®, and came away believing it’s a miracle I ever got a single question right. Check out these sample questions:

Instructions. The following questions test your ability to understand relational structures. Carefully select your answer, then close your eyes and randomly blacken a space on the score sheet. Good luck! Ha, ha.

Question 1. Analyze the relationship structure among the following dots. Place them in order from most important to least important:

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Questions 2-5. Assume exactly six of the dots are representatives at a national punctuation conference. Six chairs are evenly spaced around a table. The chairs are numbered 1 through 6, with successively numbered chairs next to each other and chair number 1 next to chair number 6. Each chair is occupied by one of the dots. The following conditions apply:

. must sit next to .

. must sit next to ., ., or both

. can sit anywhere except in front of the coat rack because it makes him look like ! and he is already sensitive about his shrill temperament

. must be seated at the end of this sentence to make it grammatically correct.

2. Which of the following seating arrangements does not violate the stated conditions?

a) . . . . . .

b) . . . . . .

c) . . . . . .

d) . . . . . .

3. Assume . sits next to ., . sits next to ., . sits next to . and . sits next to . Assume further that their table is in the smoking section. Which of the following best describes the resulting seating arrangement?

a) ??????

b) ??????

c) ??????

d) ??????

4. Assume each dot sits in its proper seat, except ., who sits on ., with the resulting seating arrangement of . . : . . Which of the following is most likely to result?

a) A violation of the stated conditions.

b) A game of musical chairs.

c) A broken pelvis.

d) A sexual harassment suit.

5. Assume the dots, feeling slighted as the only ones in the universe not asserting their intellectual property rights, hire an agent. The agent will seat the dots as follows:

a) .® .® .® .® .® .®

b) .© .© .© .© .© .©

c) .com .com .com .com .com .com

d) All of the above.

Fortunately, the good folks behind the LSAT® publish several helpful test aids: the Official LSAT PrepTest®, the Official TriplePrep®, the Offical TriplePrep Plus with Explanations®, and the all new Official® QuadraPrep® PremiumUltraPlus® with Explanations As To Why You Should Plan on Taking the LSAT® Several Times® (last one is made up).

Palsgraf Uncovered

BY ANDREW J. McCLURG

Palsgraf v. Long Island Railroad. The mere mention of it evokes memories of that fateful day at the Long Island train station when two railroad workers trying to help a man board a moving train accidentally dislodged a box he was carrying. The box turned out to contain fireworks that exploded and knocked a scale over onto Mrs. Palsgraf.

Two judicial giants—Benjamin Cardozo and William Andrews—wrote opinions in the case, Cardozo for the majority and Andrews in dissent. For 70 years, 1Ls everywhere have been forced to try to unravel these legendary, but exceedingly complex opinions.

Palsgraf suffers from a lot of problems, but the biggest one, as documented in the illustrious Prosser casebook, is that “[t]he event could not have possibly happened.” These were ordinary fireworks, which fell onto the tracks below a sturdy platform. No one testified to seeing a scale fall. Mrs. P’s first complaint alleged that stampeding passengers knocked the scale over.

How did an accident that never happened become the most famous case in torts history? The answer lies in this little-known transcript of an in-chambers colloquy between Cardozo and Andrews:

Cardozo: This is the most ridiculous case I’ve ever seen. There’s only one answer.

Andrews: Dismiss it?

Cardozo: No way. Let’s write legendary exceedingly complex opinions about it. Remember back in law school how everybody hated us because we were always raising our hands with the right answers? Here’s our chance to get even. Picture all those law students obsessing about a legendary case that never happened. Imagine the panic attacks. It’s rich!

Andrews: It does sound fun, but what makes you think this preposterous mess will become legendary?

Cardozo: Look, I’m a big name. People think everything I write is legendary. Here, I’m going to say a person is liable for negligence only if the plaintiff was foreseeable.

Andrews: What’s so legendary about that?

Cardozo: The way I’m going to say it. I’m going to obfuscate the hell out of it. Obfuscation is the key to all great opinions. Just look at Pennoyer v. Neff.

Here’s a sample I already drafted: “What the plaintiff must show is a wrong to herself; i.e., a violation of her own right, and not merely a wrong to someone else, nor conduct wrongful because unsocial, but not a wrong to anyone.”

Andrews: What the heck does that mean?

Cardozo: Nothing! That’s the beauty of it. It gets even better: “Negligence, like risk, is thus a term of relation. Negligence in the abstract, apart from things related, is surely not a tort, if indeed it is understandable at all.”

Andrews: I don’t understand that at all, but I guess that’s the point. What should my legendary opinion say?

Cardozo: Let’s really mess with their heads by writing about two completely different subjects. I’ll go on and on about duty, then just when they think they might be figuring things out, you start talking about proximate cause. Use that ridiculous hypo you’re so fond of.

Andrews: The chauffeur and the car full of dynamite? That’s no hypo. It’s a joke. The chauffeur says to the guy with the dyna—

Cardozo: Whatever. Just cram it in there somehow. And remember—the overriding goal is to write an opinion that makes the reader think he’s losing his mind.

My Phony Valentine

BY ANDREW J. McCLURG

If the rules of romance were taken as seriously as rules of law, 99 percent of new lovers would be pursuing fraud claims against their partners. Why? Because with everyone on their best behavior in the early stages of a relationship, what we see is seldom what we get.

Protect your legal and emotional rights. Enter relationships with open eyes and informed consent. Require all suitors to execute the …

Truth-In-Loving Disclosure Statement

I, the undersigned paramour, hereby agree to abide by the time-honored romantic tradition of completely misrepresenting who I am at the beginning of our relationship, to be increasingly candid in the middle stages and to finally reveal my stunning array of character defects, true beliefs and annoying quirks at the end.

This agreement shall be fully implemented within six months, being the estimated time in which our eternal, undying love will change to bitter resentment:

1. Ridiculously early in our relationship, I covenant to begin calling you my “soulmate,” with the appropriate numeric designation to distinguish you from my other ___ [fill in total number of lifetime soulmates; write on back if additional space needed].

2. When asked why my prior relationships didn’t work out, I shall state “we had different goals,” failing to mention that one of mine is to sabotage all relationships.

3. I will tell you that I love all the little things you do, when in fact, I hate all the little things you do, especially the way you (choose one or more): talk incessantly, squeeze the toothpaste tube in the middle, sneak up on me with a flashlight.

4. Men: I shall misrepresent that I love to communicate, listen to Sting, and especially dance. Women: I shall misrepresent that I have a deep interest in the standings, statistical leaders and weekly injury reports for all major sports.

5. I will insist with a straight face that “I never want to try to change you,” even as my list of suggestions for improving your appearance, personality and lifestyle approaches the 10,000 mark.

6. I shall pretend to find it cute how your cat climbs all over me while I’m sucking on an asthma inhaler at the same time your dog is attempting to have intimate relations with my leg.

7. We shall talk on the phone at the following frequency: 1st month: five times per day. 2nd month: three times per day. 3rd and 4th months: once per day. 5th month: when I need a ride. 6th month: when I forget to check my Caller ID.

8. In the 2nd month, I agree to begin combining the words “committed” and “you” in the same sentence; provided: I will not add “mental institution” to such sentence until the 5th month.

9. In months 1-2, we shall engage in frequent, excessive public displays of affection. During months 3-5, PDAs shall decline in direct proportion to number of syllables we utter to each other while dining out. In month 6, excessive PDAs shall resume, but only with persons not party to this agreement.

10. I will see only the good in your many negative qualities until the 6th month, at which point I will come to the startling realization that your playfulness is really immaturity, your caring is co-dependence, your confidence is narcissism, your …

11. At all relevant times, I shall confuse love with lust.

Insurance Deterrence

BY ANDREW J. McCLURG

Insurance companies enjoy a unique privilege among businesses—the ability to unilaterally alter contract terms in their favor simply by sending out an “Important Notice” notifying policyholders of the changes.

Just last year, customers of a major insurer received an Important Notice informing them that one of the most desirable features of their homeowner’s policy—guaranteed replacement cost coverage—was being eliminated. This was accomplished through a sophisticated legal maneuver known as: printing the words “this coverage is eliminated” on a piece of paper.

How do insurance companies get away with changing the rules in the middle of the game? I asked a contract law expert who said the technical explanation is “Because they’re insurance companies.”

I decided it’s time to fight back, so I sent my own . . .

Important Notice
to Insurance Company

Enclosed is my new homeowner’s policy. Several changes have been made. Some of these changes expand existing coverage, while others expand it even more. Still others have been left blank for me to fill in later. If you have questions about the changes, feel free to call me during normal business hours while I am away at work. Do not call during non-business hours as I will be very busy breaking up my furniture, which is covered under my new policy at 12 times replacement cost.

Premiums. Due to the rising costs of basic necessities such as the fireworks manufacturing equipment I am stockpiling in my insured dwelling, I regret to inform you that I have been forced to adjust my premium.

Please remove all the zeroes from my current premium amount and stick them on the end of my smoke detector discount. Deduct the new premium amount from the smoke detector discount and remit the balance to me in biannual installment payments.

Definition of “Insured.” A lot of my acquaintances feel they are wasting money paying for policies they are terrified to use because you have threatened to raise their premiums if they have the nerve to actually file claims. To reduce costs and improve efficiency, we’ve decided to consolidate.

The definition of “insured” in my policy is hereby amended as follows (changes in italics): “you and your parents, aunts, uncles, siblings, cousins, beer-drinking buddies, co-workers, dates, auto mechanic, hair stylist, dentist, personal trainer, people you wave to on the street and anyone who forwards you jokes by e-mail.

Fire Damage. For too long, you have arbitrarily denied coverage for one of the most common losses faced by millions of hardworking Americans—arson. Coverage for this occurrence is now included.

Vandalism. Your overly narrow definition of vandalism is amended to include red wine stains, crayon marks, home improvement projects gone awry, bad decorating decisions and holes in walls caused by policyholders smashing their skulls against them upon receiving Important Notices from insurance companies.

Additional Coverages. The coverage section of my policy is further amended to include “anything else that might go wrong.”

Reservation of Rights. As always, I reserve the right to change this policy whenever I want without bargain, exchange or consideration simply by sending you another Important Notice.

Since I mailed the above notice, I’ve received a flurry of Important Notices from my insurance company, all of which I’ve been dissolving in the leaking vat of sulphuric acid I maintain in my well-insured living room.

Hair Piece

BY ANDREW J. McCLURG

What’s so funny about a hairy hand? That’s what I set out to investigate after several requests for a column about Hawkins v. McGee, 146 A. 641 (N.H. 1929), better known as “the hairy hand case.”

Hawkins was a contracts case in which the defendant doctor guaranteed plaintiff, a young man with a burned hand, “a hundred per cent [sic] perfect hand” if he would let the doctor perform surgery on him. Instead of a perfect hand, plaintiff ended up with one that grew thick hair, apparently because of a skin graft from his chest.

I conducted a scientific poll to determine exactly why Hawkins is so funny to lawyers. After months of investigation, the only statistically valid answer turned out to be: “I don’t know. There’s just something funny about a hairy hand.”

The survey respondents added their opinions: (1) that a hairy gallbladder also would be funny; (2) that a hairy eyeball would be odd, but not necessarily funny, and, in fact, could create a driving hazard; (3) that “hairy hips” sounds funny, but would actually be pretty disgusting; and (4) that hairy teeth would require difficult choices between hygiene and style.

Still in search of something really funny about Hawkins, I delved into the case itself. The issue was one of damages. The court ruled that the damages for the botched operation should be the difference in value between a hairy hand and a good one.

How much is a hairy hand worth? That sounds funny. See what you think, in this real FAKE excerpt from the court’s …

Opinion

What is the difference in value between a hairy hand and a good hand? The issue can be resolved only by careful evaluation of the relative burdens and benefits.

It is beyond dispute that a hairy hand carries substantial burdens. Haircut costs, already high, would double. Even finding a hand salon could prove difficult. And how does one style a hairy hand? Blunt cut? Shag? Dreadlocks?

The court takes judicial notice that a “bad hair day” can cause severe emotional distress. Must plaintiff now suffer the trauma of a “bad hand-hair day”as well?

Finally, we would be remiss to ignore the embarrassment plaintiff will suffer from the tactless stares and inquiries of those who would question whether he is master of his domain.

But defendant asserts that against these burdens must be weighed the many values of a hairy hand.

First, he contends plaintiff will be able to wash his car without a mitt. While that would be convenient, plaintiff presented expert testimony that it is only 1929 and he doesn’t own a car.

Defendant next argues plaintiff can save money in winter buying fur gloves; however, this argument is based on the speculation that plaintiff will be successful both in locating and befriending an opposite-handed victim of hairy-skin-graft malpractice to split the cost of a pair of gloves.

Defendant also notes plaintiff can pretend the hand is a tarantula and use it to scare people at parties. However, we believe this joke would get old fast and do not consider it a long term benefit.

Defendant’s strongest argument is that there is something intrinsically funny about a hairy hand. While we agree, we nevertheless enter:

Judgment for plaintiff.

Note: This parody is not about the real plaintiff in Hawkins, who suffered genuine hardship.

Reference Work

BY ANDREW J. McCLURG

Law schools require applicants to submit multiple letters of reference in support of their applications. While this would seem to be an excellent method for screening candidates, a problem arises from the fact that many letters of recommendation come across as completely bogus.

After years of study, linguists have finally determined the reason: they are completely bogus. Why? Because law school applicants make two common mistakes in choosing references.

The first blunder is opting for letters from “big names”—politicians, judges and lawyers—rather than people who actually know the applicant. Admissions committees are flooded with less-than-sincere letters from muckety-mucks, like this one sent on behalf of fake applicant Daryl Langdon by a prominent U.S. Senator:

Dear Admissions Committee:

It is my great pleasure to recommend Dernyl Plankton for admission to your law school. I feel I am well-qualified to comment on Durgle’s qualifications because, although I’ve never actually met the young man, a generous contributor to my campaign who is a friend of Darnell’s family showed me his college yearbook picture.

From my intimate acquaintance with this grainy black and white photograph, I can state confidently that Dino possesses all of the qualities necessary to do well in law school, including two more or less normally-placed eyes, relatively few acne scars and a sizable forehead, suggesting the presence of a decent-sized brain. Please admit Daphne to your law school, so my campaign contributor will quit harassing me.

Sincerely,
Bernard Schlepclot (signature by machine)
U.S. Senator

A second common error is submitting letters of recommendation from people whose most recent contacts with the applicant date back to the Pleistocene era. Perhaps some applicants meet only one reputable human being in their lives willing to say something nice about them in writing.

I don’t know if that’s what happened in Daryl’s case, but … well, just look at this letter:

Dear Admissions Committee:

Lil’ Daryl asked me to write a letter for him and I am happy to do so. I was Daryl’s teacher at the Tots on Cots Daycare Center and know him well.

Daryl has many fine qualities. He’s as cute as a bug, especially when he remembers to wipe his nose, which has a tendency to drip. He is also one of the best little best nap-takers I’ve ever seen. That boy can sleep 8 hours a day if you let him, and sometimes we did.

Daryl shows natural leadership ability, especially among smaller toddlers whom he can easily shove to the ground. He is also a very tidy young man. He always puts his toys away when he’s finished pounding other children over the head with them.

The only qualities that might hinder Daryl in law school are that he whines when he doesn’t get his cartoons and wets his pants frequently.

I have every confidence Daryl will make a very fine lawyer.

Yours very truly,
Mrs. Doris Lichenstock

The good news is that Daryl got into law school despite the questionable reference letters. The bad news is he still wets his pants, especially when called on in Property.