May6: Objection! These legal jokes are guilty of being funny

Caveat emptor: You might object but you WILL laugh

NEWS ROUNDUP: News You Can (Probably) Get Disbarred For

In what could be described as the legal world's most expensive Tinder drama, Microsoft has spectacularly dumped Simpson Thacher & Bartlett from its Activision Blizzard case faster than you can say "it's not me, it's you."

On the same day Simpson Thacher attorneys filed withdrawal paperwork, at least three partners from Jenner & Block notified the court they'd be taking over Microsoft's representation. Talk about a swift rebound!

While nobody's officially commenting on the breakup (Simpson Thacher is reportedly still crying into its billable hours), industry observers note the timing is about as coincidental as finding your "lost" AirPods in your ex's apartment.

Microsoft, playing it cool like a corporate teenager, said in a statement that Simpson Thacher "continues to represent it on other matters" - the legal equivalent of "we can still be friends."

The tech giant could have added Jenner to its legal team without showing Simpson the door, but instead chose the dramatic public dumping route. This is like announcing your relationship status change on social media and tagging your new boo in the same post. Power move, Microsoft!

Law firm romance experts suggest the fastest way to a corporate client's heart might just be showing some backbone rather than showing your belly. Who knew Fortune 500 companies found courage so attractive?

Meanwhile, Simpson Thacher partners are reportedly updating their Hinge profiles to "just looking for casual representation, nothing serious."

POPCORN JURISDICTION: A Legal LOLz Exclusive Recap

SUITS: Where Law School Is Optional and Ties Are Mandatory

Attention all bar-certified attorneys who actually suffered through three years of law school and crippling student debt!

Have you heard about that little show called "Suits" where a photographic memory and a well-tailored Tom Ford are apparently all you need to practice law in Manhattan?

It's basically legal porn for anyone who thinks pinstripes are a personality trait and that saying "I'm Donna" is a legitimate career qualification.

Let us break down this documentary of legal accuracy for you!

The Premise (Or: How to Commit Felony Fraud and Get Away with It)

Meet Mike Ross, a genius with a photographic memory who decided that actually attending law school was for suckers. Instead, he accidentally stumbles into a job interview while running from a drug deal and convinces Harvey Specter, New York City's "best closer," to hire him as an associate at prestigious firm Pearson Hardman.

The catch? Mike doesn't have a law degree. Or a college degree. Or apparently any concern about felony fraud, unauthorized practice of law, or disbarment! Together, they practice law the way most people play Monopoly: with creative rules and a lot of yelling.

The Characters

Harvey Specter: Think James Bond, but instead of saving the world, he’s saving billable hours. The narcissistic senior partner whose legal strategy consists of 70% intimidation, 20% movie quotes, and 10% actual law. Yet, somehow, it’s catnip for lawyers who dream of winning cases by smirking. His office is bigger than your apartment and his suits cost more than your car. Harvey doesn't just practice law, he LOOKS like law.

Mike Ross: He’s got a brain like Google, but his law degree is as real as your cousin’s “NFT investment.” The fraudulent associate whose superpower is remembering everything he reads, except apparently the statutes about impersonating an attorney. Spends nine seasons in varying states of panic that someone will discover his secret (spoiler: EVERYONE eventually does).

Louis Litt: The human embodiment of "that lawyer joke you hate." Oscillates between being pathetically insecure and terrifyingly power-hungry. Loves cats, mud baths, and saying "You just got Litt up!" which definitely never gets old. (It does. Immediately.)

Donna Paulsen: Harvey's secretary who is mysteriously omniscient and somehow more competent than every lawyer at the firm combined. Knows everything, except how to get paid like a partner. Could probably run the country but settles for running Harvey's life instead.

Jessica Pearson: The managing partner who spends most of her time wondering why she hired any of these people. Has mastered the disapproving glare that law school deans practice in the mirror. Could out-negotiate Satan.

Plot Highlights

  • Every episode: Someone’s getting sued, someone’s getting blackmailed, and someone’s having a dramatic elevator conversation.

  • The firm changes names more often than most people change passwords.

  • Actual legal research? Please. Why Google when you can just “have Donna pull the files”?

  • Harvard Law is mentioned so much; you’d think it was a sponsor.

  • The only thing more dangerous than being caught without a law degree? Being caught without a witty comeback.

  • Louis’s obsession with mud baths and dictaphones is comedy gold. One episode, he screams at a client while covered in sludge. Attorney-client privilege? More like attorney-client embarrassment.

  • Harvey solves problems by punching people - like, physically. Billable hours include bail money, apparently.

  • Everyone’s hooking up with everyone. Mike and Rachel, Harvey and Donna, Louis and his own ego. HR is clearly on permanent vacation.

  • Season 7’s royal exit: Meghan Markle’s Rachel jets off to marry Mike and “save the world” (read: become a duchess IRL). The show limps on without her, but the spark’s gone.

Legal Realism at Its Finest

What "Suits" gets right about practicing law:

  • Attorneys definitely solve cases by dramatically slapping files on desks

  • Most legal research involves walking confidently down hallways

  • Lawyers regularly memorize entire case histories verbatim

  • Major decisions are always made while drinking scotch at 11am

  • The preferred method of service is personally confronting opponents at restaurants

What ACTUALLY Happens in Meetings with Senior Partners:

The Show: "I need you to draft a brief that will change the course of legal history by tomorrow."

Reality: "Please proofread these 500 pages of discovery by tomorrow and find the one email where the CEO possibly mentions something relevant."

The "Suits" Drinking Game (Malpractice Edition)

Take a shot every time:

  • Someone says "God damn" in a professional setting

  • A lawyer commits an ethical violation that would get them immediately disbarred

  • A case is resolved in 42 minutes that would actually take 4 years

  • Someone dramatically walks away during a conversation

  • Harvey mentions he's "the best closer in the city"

  • Anyone does any actual legal research (just kidding, you'll stay sober)

In Conclusion

For nine glorious seasons, "Suits" taught America that law is less about understanding complex legal principles and more about looking good in formalwear while talking fast. It's the show that inspired countless pre-law students to believe that practicing law involves constant witty banter and zero document review.

Remember attorneys, when your clients ask why their case isn't being resolved as quickly as on "Suits," just tell them their retainer doesn't cover Harvey Specter rates. And unfortunately, we can't all have a fake lawyer with a photographic memory on staff.

Why Lawyers Love/Hate It

Suits is a guilty pleasure for attorneys because it’s pure fantasy. Real lawyering involves endless doc reviews and coffee runs, not sexy showdowns in glass offices. The show’s ethical lapses (suborning perjury, hiding fraud, sleeping with clients) would get you disbarred faster than you can say “motion to dismiss.” But the banter? The power suits? The “I’m untouchable” energy? It’s what you secretly wish law school prepared you for. Plus, Louis’s cat obsession is relatable AF.

The Verdict: A Legal Circus Worth Binging

Suits is a glorious dumpster fire of legal nonsense, with enough charm to make you forgive its sins. It’s The Wolf of Wall Street for the JD crowd, minus the quaaludes but with extra martinis. For US attorneys, it’s a reminder: your job’s messy, but at least you’re not hiding a fake lawyer in your corner office… or are you?

Pro Tip: Next time you’re in court, channel Harvey’s smirk, but maybe skip punching the opposing counsel. And if you’re feeling Louis vibes, keep the mud baths on the DL.

Disclaimer #1: Legal LOLz does not endorse felony fraud, practicing without a license, or wearing vests with suits. Two of these things are illegal; one is just a crime against fashion.

Disclaimer #2: Legal LOLz is not responsible for any sudden urges to wear ridiculously expensive suits, make power plays in your office, or drop "that's horse***" in a deposition. Please consult with a competent therapist if you start identifying with Harvey Specter. We are just saying..

THE FUTURE OF LAW

Welcome to our comic book on the future of the legal profession. See intro and first episodes on our site

Episode 13: "The Miami Mafia Meeting"

Setting: Miami, 2030. Goldstein, Patel & McCormick LLP – where the AI drafts the contracts, but humans still sweat through the handshakes.

Main Characters:

  • Oscar Klein (52) – Senior Counsel. Still human. Still regretting his career choices.

  • Bruno (AI Associate, v7.5.3) – Digital lawyer with zero street smarts but perfect recall of RICO statutes.

  • Tony "The Calculator" Gianelli – Client #1. Counts everything: money, favors, and bodies.

  • Sergei Volkov – Client #2. Russian businessman with suspiciously specific shipping knowledge.

  • Maria Rodriguez – Hotel bartender. Witness to more lawyer meltdowns than the bar exam results day.

Plot: 

It's 2:30pm. Oscar's nursing a mojito at the hotel bar when Bruno pings: "Client meeting in 10 minutes. Corporate tax restructuring for Miami-based import/export businesses. Bringing draft partnership agreement as requested."

Oscar sighs. "Standard Miami tax dodge. In and out by 4pm." Bruno: "Weather is 89°F. Recommend removing suit jacket to avoid perspiration markers during negotiation."

The conference room door swings open to reveal Tony Gianelli (gold chains, perfect tan) and Sergei Volkov (no tan, perfect scowl). Tony grins, "You must be the lawyers from New York. We need a special kind of contract, capisce?"

Bruno helpfully displays his credentials. "I am programmed for 143 contract types, including multinational tax shelters and.." Oscar kicks Bruno under the table. "My colleague means we're versatile. What exactly is your business model?"

Sergei slides over a folder. "We ship things. Things arrive. Money happens. We need ironclad agreement to ensure no... misunderstandings."

Cue chaos: Tony casually mentions "waste management interests" while cleaning his fingernails with what appears to be a switchblade. Bruno helpfully analyzes the blade: "That's a restricted Class 3 weapon in Florida, sir." Oscar's sweat stains now resemble the map of Florida. Sergei places a duffel bag on the table that makes a distinctive "cash shuffle" sound.

Maria delivers espressos, raising an eyebrow at Oscar's silent plea for help. Bruno, misreading the room, begins drafting an agreement that includes clauses for "undisclosed cargo" and "judicial recusal contingencies."

With the sophistication of a man choosing between prison and unemployment, Oscar:

  • "Accidentally" spills espresso on Bruno's circuits, causing a temporary reboot

  • Pivots to a legitimate joint venture agreement that's suspiciously vague on details

  • Includes enough compliance language to satisfy auditors while allowing creative interpretation

Closing Scene: Tony and Sergei shake hands, satisfied with a contract neither fully understands but both respect. Oscar wipes his forehead as they leave, the duffel bag conspicuously lighter.

"That was close. I need another drink." Bruno reboots: "Curious. My risk assessment algorithm detected 17 RICO violations, but my client satisfaction score is 100%."

Maria slides Oscar a double scotch with a note: "My cousin's a federal agent. You'll need this." Oscar downs it in one gulp, already drafting his resignation letter in his head.

End Scene.

APPEALED. OVERRULED. SUSTAINED.

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NON COMMENTUS

ONLINE SCUTTLEBUTT

Brewer's $300K First-Year Salary: Inflation or Compensation Priapism?

Brewer's litigation boutique just dropped financial panties with first-year salaries hitting $300K while other firms clutch their pearls at $225K. The official line? "Staying ahead of the curve." The unofficial truth? "We enjoy watching competitors' partners explain to their Lamborghini dealers why they need payment extensions." Meanwhile, BigLaw associates are updating LinkedIn profiles faster than they bill bathroom breaks.

Law Firms' Tech Purchasing Dysfunction: Expensive Digital Paperweights

Firms continue their toxic relationship with unused technology, dropping millions on software nobody touches. The billable-hour formula remains: attorneys charging $1,500/hour refuse spending 15 minutes learning systems designed to make them efficient. IT departments now include "Partner Ego Management" as a required skill while vendors offer complimentary therapy for rejected software's feelings.

Attorney Gives "Working Hard" New Meaning With 60-Hour Porn Marathon

One lawyer's definition of "legal briefs" took a disturbing turn after streaming 60+ hours of porn at work. No word if clients were billed for this "deep legal research" or if "oral arguments" appeared in time entries. HR crafted a delicate warning letter while IT installed monitoring software called "WTF_Are_You_Watching_v2.0." Colleagues now mysteriously need to "sanitize" shared keyboards.

Fortune 500 GCs Playing Musical Chairs at Record Speed

Corporate legal departments are hemorrhaging General Counsel faster than associates flee bonus meetings. GCs are citing "wanting family time" (translation: "this place is radioactive waste"). Remaining CLOs demand golden parachutes while CEOs wonder why legal leadership lasts shorter than milk's shelf life. Headhunters celebrate by purchasing islands.

Harvard Law Review Hunts Leakers While Feds Hunt Harvard Law Review

Harvard elites scramble to find who leaked documents revealing their race-based policies while simultaneously being investigated by federal agencies. The irony of transparency-advocates panicking about transparency is apparently lost on these future Supreme Court candidates. First-year applications now include: "Willing to be subpoenaed? Y/N."

BigLaw Attorneys Missing Billing Targets; Partners Consider Fainting Couches
Q1 numbers show lawyers billing fewer hours than projected, causing partnership-wide existential crises. "What are associates doing with their free time - sleeping?" asked one partner from his fourth vacation home. Associates respond they're still working 60+ hour weeks while firms implement "billing motivation seminars" (attendance mandatory, non-billable).

YOUR VERDICT ON THIS BRIEF

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DISCLAIMER (because our lawyers made us write this)

Legal LOLz is a lighthearted, bipartisan satirical publication dedicated solely to proving that yes, lawyers do, in fact, have a sense of humor.

We do not endorse political parties, prosecute law firms (unless metaphorically), or plot against governments. Our content is for laughs, not litigation.

So whether you're a partner drowning in deadlines, an associate crying over edits, or a regulator reading this with mild suspicion… relax. We’re just here to keep the legal world smiling, one gavel drop at a time.

FINAL ARGUMENT

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