Bradley Scares U Straight-Don't Go to Law School

I went to law school and I am not alone. Each year thousands of students find their way into the soul-sucking profession that is the law. Many have reached a point in their life where there is no clear path, so in their confusion they submit to three years of additional schooling. Others are told by their peers that they are good arguers or extremely anal retentive, and thus would make excellent attorneys, becasue afterall, being a lawyer is really all about two people arguing with each other over who has the bigger stick up their ass.

For those all-stars who aren't lucky enough to drop out or be expelled, they get to spend three years and thousands of dollars on a degree that is utterly worthless. A lot of people say a law degree opens up many doors. Bullshit! A law degree will open up one door, being a miserable lawyer, and thats if your lucky. Otherwise having a law degree on your resume is about as valuable as saying you spent three years as a crack whore. I'd actually argue that the crack whore experience is more valuable, because at least then you'd have a skill.

For me, everyday I go to work is more miserable than the previous one. Sometimes when I am sitting in a meeting listening to some fossil with dry mouth or overweight women squeezed into a pant suit drone on about boring details or irrelevant numbers my eyes will glaze over. Out of the darkness I will imagine a still photo of myself being punched in the balls by a giant fist. The fist is massive and has the word LAW tatooed on it in bold faced capital font.

The first photo of me is from when I was a young buck of 22, fresh from college and viral, ready to devour life and all its trappings as I proudly stand at attention without the slightest bit of trepidation. But then the muscular appendage moves in from the right side of the screen, and wastes no time striking my groin area with a couple lightning fast jabs. In response to the progressive beating the photo of me ages, and my features rapidly change from young to middle aged, and middle aged to old. Finally, my body crumples and sags until the fist is no longer punishing my balls, but is instead grinding an ashy pile of dust spread on the ground.

Then I wake up, check on my boys, and look around me. I wonder if I'm any better off.

[Law School] [Balls]