When you first started getting scumbags off on technicalities and putting them back on the streets, you did it for the principal of the thing.
"I will not stand by and let a guilty man be put in jail if there are technicalities!" you used to argue to relatives of murder and rape victims when they would throw drinks at you in restaurants.
Nowadays though, you seem to have misplaced all those principals you used to hold so tight. Your rates are too high for you to help the little guilty guy. Your business cards now read, "If you're rich and you just killed your wife, call me!"
"I think you're disgusting," your mistress tells you every time you visit her. You asked her to do that back in 2000 when your erection started to go. It's the only thing that makes it happen anymore.
"I think you should be ashamed of yourself," your daughter writes to you in her annual Christmas letter. She won't visit you anymore. Her grandson can't think she condones what you do.
"I think you're some kind of gift from God," your latest client, lobbyist Karl Montessi, wrote you this morning from Aruba. You got Karl off after he murdered his wife by plugging up her throat with hundred dollar bills. "If you were a chick I'd name my boat after you!"
You are a high priced defense attorney. Now go recline in a leather chair that's more expensive than a Cadillac and drink a glass of scotch that's more expensive than a black market baby. You've earned it.
Happy You Are A High Priced Defense Attorney Day!
