Actual Legal Quotes & Lawyer Jokes

On Law School Exams:
Matt Rengel: So, what'd you think of the test?
Nick Kriegel: Well, on a scale of 1 to sodomy, I feel like a man with a life sentence.

Trial Transcirpts:
"Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning?"

"The youngest son, the twenty-year-old, how old is he?"

"Were you present when you picture was taken?"

Q: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?
A: I have been since early childhood.

"Was it you or your brother who was killed in the war?"

"Did he kill you?"

"How far apart were the vehicles at the time of the collision?"

"You were there until the time you left, is that true?"

Q: So the date of conception was August 8th?
A: Yes.
Q: And what were you doing at that time?

Q: She had three children, right?
A: Yes.
Q: How many were boys?
A: None.
Q: Were there any girls?

Q: You say the stairs went down to the basement?
A: Yes.
Q: And these stairs, did they go up also?

Q: Mr. Slatery, you went on a rather elaborate honeymoon, didn't you?
A: I went to Europe, Sir.
Q: And you took your new wife?

Q: How was your first marriage terminated?
A: By death.
Q: And by whose death was it terminated?

Q: Can you describe the individual?
A: He was about medium height and had a beard.
Q: Was this a male, or a female?

Q: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney?
A: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.

Q: Doctor, how many autopsies have you performed on dead people?
A: All my autopsies are performed on dead people.

Q: All your responses must be oral, OK? What school did you go to?
A: Oral.

Q: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?
A: The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.
Q: And Mr. Dennington was dead at the time?
A: No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy.

Q: You were not shot in the fracas?
A: No, I was shot midway between the fracas and the naval.

Q: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?
A: No.
Q: Did you check for blood pressure?
A: No.
Q: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?
A: No.
Q: How can you be so sure, Doctor?
A: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.
Q: But could the patient have still been alive nevertheless?
A: It is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law somewhere.

Q: Whis is the first thing your husband said to you when he woke up that morning?
A: He said, "Where am I Cathy?"
Q: And why did that upset you?
A: My name is Susan.

Q: What is your date of birth?
A: July fifteenth.
Q: What year?
A: Every year.

Q: Sir, what is your IQ?
A: Well, I can see pretty well, I think.

Q: Did you blow your horn or anything?
A: After the accident?
Q: Before the accident.
A: Sure, I played for ten years. I even went to school for it.

Q: How old is your son -- the one living with you?
A: 38 or 35... I can't remember which.
Q: How long has he lived with you?
A: 45 years.

Prosecutor: Can you identify the man who held up your store?
Witness (pointing at defendant): Yes. That's him.
Defendant (leaping up): I should have blown your [bleeping] head off... [pause] if I'd been the one that was there.

Judge: Please begin.
Counsel: Thank. [to witness] Miss, while you have, if you do have -- you still -- oh, you don't.
Judge: That was a great start, counsel.

Q: When you were driving on the Interstate, how fast were you going?
A: I never looked at the speedometer. But the speed limit in that part of the Interstate is 65 and I wasn't going 65. I rarely go 65.
Q: All right. I want to take us back to the scene of the bar for a moment again. [The witness starts to leave the stand.]
A: No, you don't have to get up. I just want to take you back there mentally.

Fishisms (Ally McBeal):
New firm policy, listen up! Anybody who sues this firm or me, personally, we all drop whatever cases we are working on. We devote all of our intellectual and creative efforts to ruining that person's life. Are we clear? I don't want to stop short with just getting even. Retribution is not strong enough. Ruin, that is the goal. Irreversible, irreputable, irrational ruin! New firm policy!

Helping others is never more beneficial than when it's in your own self-interest.

Bygones.

Never trust second thoughts. Next thing you know there'll be a third and a fourth... you'll be thinking forever!

It's not winning, it's winning ugly that matters.

Under that robe, besides a phenomenal body, is a good judge! Act like one!

If you don't kiss a girl on the first date, your a gentleman. If you don't kiss her on the second date, you're gay!

Problem is just a bleak word for a challenge.

Let me tell you something, I didn't become a lawyer because I like the law, the law sucks. It's boring, but it can also be used as a weapon. You want to bankrupt somebody? Cost him everything he's worked for? Make his wife leave him, even make his kids cry... yeah, we can do that.

Women as a rule hate pretty women, but women as a rule also sympathize with other women victims because they are women. Are you with me? It's like this: women want other women to be destroyed, but they don't want to be the actual destroyers themselves.

The bigger it is, the more of his she doesn't want, that's all. Fishism.

It's not my style to care about others, but what's going on?

I don't mind losing, it's high profile losing that is not good.

I can't do anything about it, but I'd be happy to sympathize.

Piles and piles of money. If I help some along the way great, but mainly I'm in this for the piles, heaps, the really big piles.

You've got to remember, you're not who you are. You're only what other people think of you.

I plan to have character one day, great character, but if you want to be rich you better get the money before the scruples set in.

Sex for men: when it's right, it's right; when it's wrong, it's still right.

Personally, I hate sexual harassment laws. The original force behind them were the disgruntled lesbians who felt they were not given the same opportunities - along with ugly women, who were jealous of pretty women who got all the breaks in the work force. My cause to action is simple, women are victims. They need special help. Look at the evolution of these sexual harassment laws. What we are really saying is women really should qualify under the Federal Disability Act. They are less able. They cannot cope with romance at the office. They cannot contend with having to do a job and have a man smile at them. It is too much. Look where we use to be, first quid pro quo, then hostile environment, and now Seinfeld episodes. Women can't take it; they bruise too easily. The laws are here to protect the weak and most vulnerable in society. She is woman, protect her!

Make enough money and everything else will follow.

There's no embarrassing way to earn money.

For whatever reason, people would never trust me, so I started be unscrupulous on purpose, and that way, I felt in control of people's reactions.

Personal questions don't bother me. I just lie.

We have an excellent chance to boost our profile and erode the First Amendment in the process. It's not often we get a case where principal coincides with profit, and I'm not about to take time out just because I've breached some trust thing you and I had going!

Richard: "John..a second of your time..we started this firm with the same dream, did we not?"
John: "Money."
Richard: "In pursuit of that dream we agreed that I would be the shark, the hammer, the ass, and you would be the pillar of dignity, this was the deal..have I not been every bit the ass you envisioned?"
John: "And more."

There comes a time in everyone's life when you have to go forth and be vicious!

Tell me... what kind of lie works here?

Speak not from strength but from estrogen.

Ouch. That would hurt if I cared.

Good news should never go uncelebrated.

The reason John and I started this firm was because we wanted to go to work everyday where it was fun: make money, throw office parties, a fun place to work. I realize employees will always gripe. Part of an employee is to not like people staring at pretty girls, and not to like tactics used to win cases. It is the nature of the employee to complain. There is always some place better. This lawsuit carries the gripe too far. It saps the fun out of it for me. And since fun was the point, anybody who isn't happy, leave. And if you all go, we will just have to start another firm. There is always another one.

We just love to live in a politically correct world that is so evolved. Where did we pass a law against common sense? This is a French bistro. When people go there, they go not just to eat but to dine. The ambiance of culture they want to feel elite and sophiscated. A good gay waiter can do that. They have that snobbish little entitlement thing going. People like that." "Gays are elitist snobs?"
"The waiter kind are. First they are smarter. They grow up reading more books, probably trying to figure out the answer as to why they are homosexual.
Plus, they are terrible at sports which gives them more time to study. They are smart, they want to work in the arts. They end up as waiters, way over qualified, bitter, snobby. People have come to expect this when ordering a fruity wine.

Lend me your shoe Georgia. If I wanted to sell this, better to have you model this or me? Everything is about presentation, same for resturants as for shoes. What's inside doesn't count, its how they look. Fishism.

If we win we are heros, we pulled off a miracle. If we lose the wacko goes to jail, justice is served. It is a win/win!

Jokes:

A paralegal, an associate, and a partner of a prestigious law firm are walking through a city park and they find an antique oil lamp. They rub it and a genie comes out in a puff of smoke.
The genie says, "I usually only grant three wishes, so I'll give each of you just one."
"Me first! Me first!" says the paralegal. "I want to be in the Bahamas, driving a speedboat with Brad Pitt."
Poof! She's gone.
"Me next! Me next!" says the associate. "I want to be in Hawaii, relaxing on the beach with a professional hula dancer on one side and a Mai Iai on the other."
Poof! He's gone.
The partner says, "I want those two back in the office after lunch."

Two lawyers walking through the woods spotted a vicious looking bear. The first lawyer immediately opened his briefcase, pulled out a pair of sneakers and began putting them on.
The second lawyer looked at him and said, "you're crazy -- you'll never be able to outrun that bear!"
"I don't have to," the first lawyer replied. "I only have to outrun you."

The tiresome jury selection process continued, each side hotly contesting and dismissing potential jurors. A man was called for his question session.
"Property holder?"
"Yes, I am, Your Honor."
"Married or single?"
"Married for twenty years, Your Honor."
"Formed or expressed an opinion?"
"Not in twenty years, Your Honor."

Supreme Court: The place where the finest legal minds in the country gather -- to serve as law clerks to the justices. -- Daniel R. White

"Do you claim this man hit you with malice aforethought?" asked the lawyer.
"Look, you can't mix me up that easy," replied the witness. "I said he hit me with a Ford, and I'm sticking to it."

Top Ten Things That Sound Nasty in Law, but Really Aren't:
10. Have you looked through her briefs?
9. He is one hard judge!
8. Counselor, let's do it in chambers.
7. His attorney withdrew at the last minute.
6. Is it a penal offense?
5. Better leave the handcuffs on.
4. For $200 an hour, she better be good!
3. Can you get him to drop his suit?

23 conversations with myself

I walked down the pier at Fort Mason and looked out over the bay. Like a lot of days in San Francisco, the sun slowly burned through the mist leaving the blue sky and vestiges of gray mist. This usually took place in the afternoon. I looked out over green waters of the bay at the shit-stained prison island and the green hills of Sausalito; the orange bridge spanning the gap between sunny Marin County and cold, gray San Francisco. Two worlds apart. The place you want to live and the place you have to work.

I came around the corner and a black man was digging through the garbage, gathering bottles and cans together. He didn't glance up or acknowledge me. I couldn't help but observe that this was one of those moments where typically one knows they are supposed to say to themselves "at least that isn't me." but it seemed dishonest. It seemed disrespectful of my genuine state of pain and suffering. I really couldn't be certain that the peaks and valleys in his life were higher or deeper than mine.

There are, after all, some things worse than death. A soldier goes off and dies in battle, his honor remains intact. A man begins life and winds up digging in the garbage for money. And then some of us have dreams that are so close to seeing happen that we can smell it like the salt in the air of the bay. We can feel it like the sun burnishing ones' neck and warming the ears. The tragedy of a man's life is not that he dies, it's what dies within him while he lives.

I stood at the corner of the pier facing the "Golden" gate. God knows why they call it that. It's more like burnt orange. And not a particularly large or spectacular bridge as far as bridges go. Although I admit that the view is gorgeous against the backdrop of the bay. It's beauty was lost on me that day.

A seagull stood a few feet from me, unafraid.

I looked down the pier toward where the others waited. Gathered in clumps, laughing in empty, hollow tones at the dark, all moving toward something they thought they wanted, something that had invested so much time, money, and effort into, and thinking it was somehow the answer to their problems. I thought that. I guess, in a way, maybe I still did. I knew why I was there. To re-write history. To prove I wasn't a flake. To prove I mattered. To prove that people should listen to me. To have some power over my life. To put myself in position where I didn't have to be beholden to so many of the incredibly stupid people who somehow end up in positions of power and authority.

I didn't know why the others were there. I would guess many of them were just doing what their parents wanted. Many of them just wanted a good job. A large proportion of them wanted, like me, to re-write history with one important distinction; they saw themselves as victims everywhere they went, and acted accordingly. These people wanted to be assholes for a living. I knew the perpetrators in my life were, and are, few and far between. They saw everyone as perpetrators.

A seagull landed on the pier with a small crab in his mouth. I moved closer, and he walked off, jealously guarding his prize. I waited until he moved further away and felt safe, hidden behind one of the wooden pilings, and then glanced around it.

He jabbed at the crab, ripping each of his legs off, and then swallowing them one by one. Jab, swallow, jab, swallow, until the dying crab was left with one large claw and a leg or two that weakly waived in the air. The gull struck at his shell, cracked it open, and began to extract his meat. I felt odd sympathy for the gull, though more in touch with the demise of the crab. Of course it wasn't until I spoke with my wife later that she pointed out I was a Cancer. I've never been a very good Californian.

I looked again at the others. There are those who are comfortable with the role of destroyer. That is, after all, what we do. We are hungry, we need to feed, and such is the way of the world. To pretend that we don't need to eat, and that others don't need to suffer for that, is to not understand the order of things. There will always be the victor, and the vanquished in this universe. There will always be the winners and losers. There will always be those who go hungry, and those who are consumed. It was a small, silly epiphany I supposed, that no matter how complex we think we are, no matter how different we think we are, we are all digging in the garbage or picking the legs off a crab, one by one. Jab and swallow, jab and swallow.

But I wondered what I wanted by legacy to be. Going through the whole process was without question, horrifying. Each day left me gasping for air as panic engulfed me. I feared I was dying of heart failure constantly, although the physicians said nothing was wrong with me. Walking to my car, sitting in my house, at any time, any place it would strike and leave me in the throes of panic, which I would fight off in a few minutes, or at worst, an hour or so. At times I would go and sit in front of the hospital like a fool, waiting for it to subside.

All of this for the pleasure of working ten hours straight with a fifteen minute break and eating processed tuna over a garbage can and getting yelled at by some complete raving bitch. I guess I should have chosen a different career, like getting divorced for a living. That's my legacy. Beholden to not just stupid people, but VERY stupid people.

For some strange reason everywhere I went there were robots for the last several weeks. I went to see that silly movie "Transformers" in order to turn my brain off. A day later I opened a practice performance test, which involved a contract dispute with a toy store over a few hundred toy robots with a picture of a robot taking up an entire page. Yesterday I'm reading Yahoo News and there is some story about robots clearing landmines. Insert observation by psychologist who says you just started noticing them more due to your mental state.

I watched the others began to move toward the entrance of the pier, and shaking my head, followed them in.