Frustration

I had a very bad ruling today in a significant case — one that I’m convinced I should have won, or at least won most of. Instead, I got dissed by the judge, who proceeded to remind me that he was dissing me in a polite, impersonal, professional sort of way.

They don’t teach you in law school how to break bad news like that to your client. That’s all on you, baby. My bedside manner today included explaining that the whole thing left me mad enough to launch a tri-state killing spree.

(Tri-State Killing Spree, as it turns out, is the name of an album by a Tex-Mex psychedelic country-surf rock band called The Cadillac Hitmen that, so far as I can tell, is entirely instrumental. Of the samples I listened to on their website, I think I like the wonderfully-titled track “El Gringo Muerte” the best. “El Gringo Muerte” is pretty much what I feel like right now.)

As for my own emotions at having poured so much work and effort into the effort to defend my client, well, I guess I’m supposed to just roll with the punches and be proud of myself that I went down swinging. But indulge me in my frustration for a moment, Readers. If I’d known the court was going to treat my argument this way, I wouldn’t have made the motion at all and tried to find a more productive way to use my client’s resources and my own precious time. Like teaching my cats political theory.

I need a drink and some food that’s spent some time immersed in hot oil. I’ll eat nothing but weeds tomorrow to make up for it, but not tonight.