Cupcakes for Country

OK, troops, it’s time for me to assign each of you your duties for today.

You five need to go to the arms room and clean weapons. Make them sparkle.

You four need to go clean the barracks. I should be able to eat off the floor.

You three need to go mow the grass outside our buildings. I’d better not see any weeds.

And, for the fifteen of you that remain, you’re going to go build a cupcake tank to celebrate the Army’s birthday. Make sure it fires cupcakes, too.

My tax dollars funded cupcake #372, just so you know.


Dear Potential Clients (June 27, 2012)

First, thanks to everyone who sent flowers. While I am not dead, I appreciate the thoughtfulness of those of you who presumed and celebrated my death.

Back from the brink, I have a few notes for potential clients*, who clearly have lost at least a half-step from where they were when I was actively attempting to curb their habitually erratic behavior.

Note 1: When I ask an open-ended question, responding with more than “yeah” is preferable. Now, I’m not looking for your summation of world history from the time the Earth cooled, but a bit more than “yeah” helps me to evaluate the merits of your case.

Note 2: If your case sucks, I will tell you that your case sucks. You can try to convince me that you have a non-sucky case, and your hope may be that I change my view and decide that you have an outstanding case. However, know that my opinion does not cause your case to un-suck.

Note 3: If you tell me that your case will make me famous, I will run in the direction opposite of your location. First, I do not want to be famous. Second, by assuming your case will result in fame and fortune, you’re probably not the client for me. For secondary reading on why I do not want to be famous, please type the words “Amendola lawyer” into your search engines.

Note 4: I am not a source of information. I am a source of representation. If you need information, please return your attention to the googles. My attention is on my clients. I am also not an alternative to dialing 411.

Note 5: By talking louder, you do not make your case more convincing.

Note 6: When I tell you to take a hike, don’t take it personally. Your case sucks. It happens. If you are desperate to throw money at your matter for no return, the googles are full of folks who would love to accommodate you. I’m just not one.

Note 7: If, when I return your call, you reply with “Now, which lawyer were you?”, I will not accept your case. That question is a clear indication that you are scouring the legal sphere looking for someone willing to give free advice or a “value-priced” lawyer. I am neither. Goodbye.

Note 8: If I say I won’t take your case, hang up. Don’t stay on the line looking to vent about how much of an evil jerk I am because I don’t love your case as much as you do. I know I’m an evil jerk. I don’t need your concurrence. Every moment you and I remain on the phone is a moment we could use for other, more productive endeavors. Carpe diem.

Note 9: Not everyone will love your case as much as you. In fact, some folks might just hate your case. These people might include a judge and opposing counsel. I know, I know. It’s shocking. Make yourself feel better by thinking that they are evil or involved in a huge conspiracy against you.

That’s all for now. I’m sure I’ll have more after I answer the call that will ring in 5……4…..3……2……


*There is a huge difference between “potential clients” and “clients.” One is to be venerated and celebrated. The other is to be devoutly avoided unless they show the mettle necessary to achieve “client” status.