Somewhere in my extremely private and completely offline life I am engaged in the higher education pursuits at a prestigious establishment of legal indoctrination.

For reasons that are better left unsaid, I'm not really able to allow these two worlds to cross over - insofar as I'd rather not have my terrible online misdeeds and associations come back to haunt me when I inevitably run for office on a platform of forced genocide and mass sodomy.

That being said, with the start of a new semester, I was approached by some of my colleagues who asked me to become a writer for a new "law school humor" journal/magazine they were putting togheter.

My assignment? Put something together and give them a submission.

After a moment of brief consideration, I cranked out what you see posted below. The colleagues that I mentioned earlier haven't spoken to me since, and I consider that somewhat of a victory.

This is your Warning Shot
Welcome to Oz, bitch.

First of all, I'd like to thank everyone for reading this far into the first edition of the newly-revived "Flaw Review" (or possibly the same dismal attempts at "topical" humor and "witty" commentary under a different name) journal. Seeing as I have been compelled at gunpoint to halfassedly crank out some banal content for this literary abortion, I might as well take this opportunity to directly address all of our incoming 1L students. So forgive me for a moment while I slug down another cup of "hot tea" and swallow my visceral hatred long enough to channel it into semi-coherent sentences.

By the time your eyes cross these humble words, you've probably already been through orientation and been completely inundated with a tremendous amount of solid advice from mentors and professorial types. You're excited, perhaps nervous – you know how to read a casebook and do your briefs. You're motivated and prepared, and you're ready to do well.

Those of you that are reading this, however, probably ended up choosing this particular avenue to delay your entry into the real world because you realized you didn't want to go out into the job market with a Journalism degree or the whole rockstar thing didn't exactly pan out. If this is you, then keep reading. I'm trying to reach you. Let me be the first to pop the wonderful bubble of idealism that you've spent the past four or so years building up.

Welcome to the first day of the end of your life. From here on out, it's all going to be a slow decline into soulcrushing mediocracy. As you take your first step onto campus, preparing for your first day of classes, throw any foolish or ill-concieved notions of being able to "take down the system from the inside" out of your mind immediately. You've already taken a hearty swig from the kool-aid¹ and sold yourself into becomming everything you thought you hated when you were an undergrad. You're not going to be helping the oppressed masses by the time you get out of here, contrary to what you think right now.

Congratulations! You're a sell-out! But don't feel bad, you're in good company.
Besides, by the time all of this dawns on you, your conscience will be clouded by future visions of exotic cars, trophy wives, and dumptrucks full of blood money to really give a damn.

If you were one of the fortunate few who were actually lured into this whole heathen enterprise by the above-mentioned luxuries, consider yourself fortunate. It's a whole lot easier to sell your soul to the devil when he's already one of your relatives.

As per the requirements of this column, I was supposed to dispense helpful, Big Brotherly advice to all of you. So, here goes. First off, the idea that there's no such thing as a "highly-functional alcoholic" is just a complete lie. Even if you managed to keep it all togheter in your undergraduate days, it's never too late to start yourself on the long road to a serious drinking problem. The simple truth is, as long as you can keep it togheter, get your work done, and show up not reeking of sin and cheap booze, nobody will even notice or bother to care. You only have three years to continue to ignore the reality that I've already shown you, so you might as well keep your brain dull and sluggish enough that it doesn't catch on to the lies! Sadly, this advice will become far more pertinent once you've entered the professional field and now must convince yourself that you're not some sort of soul-sucking corporate monster.

Second tip - Start on all of your LARC projects immediately. Even if you don't know what they're about - ask an upper classman for the general info and get started. The precious few days before a LARC assignment are due are generally filled with stressful hand-wringing, hair-pulling and rationalizing to yourself that the page you just wrote isn't total inexcusable crap. Even if you don't have any clue what the assignment is, fill several pages with nonsensical jargon. This will actually be as good, if not better, than what you would be cranking out at 3 AM the morning the paper is due. With the LARC project finished before it is even assigned, you can spend those precious weeks dilligently studying the label of a bottle of Jack Daniels (see tip #1). For added fun, you can alienate all your friends and peers by drunkdialing them at midnight the day before the paper is due and asking them to meet you for some drinks.

So, cheer up! It's not the end of the world, just the beginning of the end. Remember - we're all in this togheter, but we all die alone.

See you next Macedonian fortnight
Dr. Lamprey Von Bastardo

(1) Contrary to popular belief, the Jonestown mass suicide event was conducted with drug-laced "Flavor Aid" brand soft drink, not "Kool Aid". Despite this, the expression "drink the kool aid" has mistakenly become part of popular culture. We fully expect lawsuits from both of these companies, as we are going on record as stating that both of these products directly inspire both suicide and anti-semitism.

September 7, 2005