One of the great things about moving to a new place is I get to move the age back a couple of years. I’m 23 again and back to sleeping almost exclusively with co-eds. I tell them I graduated law school when I was 19, and hence missed out on the college experience. I tell them law is just a stepping stone for running for office and that my grandfather was a Senator and BAM! I’m back in a twin bed poking a college sophomore who has zero expectations about having an orgasm.  It’s great to be me.

My encyclopedic knowledge of pop-culture, my spikey blonde hair and my electric blue Mustang aren’t the reason I am able to do this.  It’s the physique. I realized the other day I don’t even know how good I look because I am used to seeing myself every day.  I can’t imagine what it must be like for a girl to see me for the first time. I was slow getting out of a conquest’s bed one morning and ended up running into and then sleeping with the roommate, which wouldn’t have been remarkable except for the fact that it started a war between them with each battle getting more and more kinky.

I make $220k now.  It’s not great, particularly since I have to go into the office several times a week now. However, the great thing about DC is that it’s the last town in this country where nobody ever bottom lines you aka “How much are you worth?” DC may be the last place in America where the bottom line is still who your grandfather was and not who you yourself are. The Aristocracy is alive and well, and that’s why my $220k is sufficient.

But don’t think I don’t read the other posts on this blog. I came across one while I was sitting in Starbucks about living for free.  I figured hey, I like free shit. So I posted something on one of the boards at GW and Georgetown, and before I know it I am offered a FREE room in the quarters of none other than the Spanish diplomat to the United States. And hell no I don’t speak Spanish.

I keep a lie journal so I remember what I have said and when.  Remember my fictional Senator Grandfather? I had the good sense to use a real name.  Turns out he sponsored an obscure bill to help out our brothers and sisters in Mexico, and as one might expect the Mexican leadership at the time still had ties to Spain.

So in addition to hitting co-eds I am about to add the frustrated often non-English speaking wives of diplomats to my ass menu, not to mention all of the help employed at this and similar mansions located in this swank gated neighborhood. I might also start depositing my check in Spain to give the IRS the run around now that I don’t have a traceable address.

Mike Triforce is back. I might even bring back the word: BOO-YAH!

Even the great Mike Triforce has a learning curve. K Street is not South Street my friends. I can’t just drop the top on my ’stang and fill it with those who turn and smile when I slap their ass. Believe me I tried.

After striking out I was so desperate for ass I almost called the Princess and made her drive down from Philly. But then I know she would have insisted on staying the night. Then I’d wake up with fresh melon and “I love you” written in yogurt. What kind of skank calls that breakfast? Hint: Apply heat to protein. Batter+Butter = good.

All that changed when I got an assignment from the lobbying group and went to the Hill. I recognized a bro from my frat working in one some obscure Congressman’s office and he told me that here money is assumed, and it’s all about power based on your relationships with congressman and White House execs.

Then all of a sudden things were too easy. Washington women apologize to you if they walk in on you with another woman. They leave THAT night before 1 AM unless invited to stay, at which point they know another night round and a morning session is expected. I brought one girl a stale donut to make up for lying about wearing a condom and she actually cried and “thanked” me in a way that made even a guy like me immediately wash his sheets.

DC also has an attitude about debt I can get behind. Debt is like any other vice. My debt is fine and I deserve help and forgiveness just like I do with my various addictions, dysfunctional relationships, etc. YOUR debt is inexcusable, as are your addictions, dysfunctional relationships, etc.

Within a month I imagine I will learn a dozen ways to lie, cheat or steal my way out of student debt. But what’s the point? The US could wipe out it’s creditors if it really wanted to but hey, that’s a lot of work! Instead I will just take out more money like our dear old Uncle Sam.

Mikey’s back. Tell a friend! It’s good to be back. Back in an elite law firm and back to my old fighting weight.

Where did I go? To fat town ladies and gentlemen. Let me  explain. Remember however long it was ago that KF Li said he had dirt on me? Well, the dirt was I was faking a bipolar disorder to get worker’s comp and avoid getting laid off. Though the little pricklet never squealed I couldn’t take that chance SO I took a page from Homer Simpson’s book and started to gain massive amounts of weight. This was done not only to create a disability in it’s own right but to reinforce my contention that I indeed was funny in my head.

Now I know the women reading this are weeping. How could such a gorgeous specimen of the male ideal let himself go? That would be like spitting in the face of the Creator. But dear ladies I ask you this: should I have to work?

It worked of course. I also found a job in DC making oodles and oodles more money than the crappy job I had in Philly (and I finally got to check a charity box, thank you disability!) . I set the start date for the day after my short term disability coverage ends, fraudulently signed the Princess’ name to a new lease so my credit won’t be affected when I stop paying rent and set about losing the weight. Now I am in the best shape I’ve ever been in.

The Princess? Ugh. In classic whore form she never actually left me when I got fat, just made every effort to show she was cheating on me. I actually took pride in embarrassing her in front of her lovers, referring to her as my fiancee. You know I should actually credit her with part of this comeback because I originally started sleeping in trash bags so the diseased discharge from her orgies in our shared bed wouldn’t get in my beautiful hair and eyes, the only part of my gorgeous physique unaffected by the weight gain.

I normally don’t participate in discourse of this sort unless there is an immediate and tangible benefit like taking an attractive young coed to bed. I need to work on my conservative asshole shpiel because I had a misfire with a girl I chose because I didn’t have the energy to compete for her more attractive cousin. In reality I just don’t care.

Ok, I make no secret of the fact that if I want something I get it. Alcohol, cars, electronics, travel, premium housing, the latest trends and newest sports equipment…only the best for yours truly, and I have a crushing debt load. I also make no secret of the fact that paying my loans is my absolute lowest priority. I have told stories about gambling with my loan balance for a month just to prove a point. That point is paying my loans is like letting the Princess sleep in the bed after I have defiled her (if she is indeed still capable of being defiled) just because I usually do it doesn’t mean I have to and I am the one in control.

So if my loans magically evaporated I wouldn’t necessarily spend more money. I might, over time, carry a lower credit card balance. Eh.

But this is one of the rare times when it’s not all about me. Let’s take my polar opposite in every way: Benito. When Benito was working he dutifully saved his money, denied himself most extravagancies, and when he got canned he had saved just enough to pay off my buddy’s share of the rent and mine since my buddy ripped me off before we left. I gave him a cold offer to stay with the Princess and I – took him three nights to figure out the key I gave him didn’t work and it wasn’t an accident.

Anyway, a working Benito is just going to save that money. Benito in his current state either isn’t paying his loans or is committing sexual misdemeanors to do it which he would presumably stop if the immediate need to whore himself suddenly evaporated.  Net effect on the economy = zero.

But that doesn’t mean it won’t get done. We’ve got gays in the military and at the alter, we have pan handlers and servant’s children getting medical care, and we STILL have old people getting a check for doing all that they do…causing traffic jams at 2 pm, paying for groceries with pennies, lying about potential inheritances, exaggerating ailments and getting other special treatment like parking and movie discounts.

Just like everyone hates old people and hates black people who went to a private college, public college in the south, UCLA or Michigan soon everyone will hate former student debtors and everyone and their mother will say “I got into Harvard but didn’t want to take out the loans” and just like with Social Security and Affirmative Action Joe Everyman will eventually convince himself that he would have gone to Harvard if he’d known…just like old people make him poor and blacks keep him out of school.

What I want is a tax break. Why? Because taxes are automatically deducted from my check. I won’t spend more when this happens either but a bigger check will make me feel like a bigger man.

Doctor beats Lawyer. I-banker beats Doctor…Lawyer beats I-banker. Wait! Here me out. What do the best I-bankers do? That’s right, white collar crime – Madoff! Madoff! And they either go to jail, or worse, chicken out with money still on the table, never knowing if they have the hottest chick, fastest car or biggest house money can buy. If you’re going to play the game like that please just go live in your mother’s basement and learn to make cucumber sandwiches and Sangria for your mother’s book club.

Ok so what about doctors? They’re chumps. I mean in theory being a doctor should be the highest paying job in the world because what’s more important than human life?

Ha! Human life. It takes doctors until they are well into their thirties to realize that we as a human society don’t value human life for shit. That’s why people in the third world die of shut we cured a hundred years ago while the best and brightest researchers are trying to figure how to regrow hair and prolong erections.

So we come to lawyers. Traditionally they are at the bottom of the professional pyramid…but when was the last time you saw a lawyer go to jail simply for knowingly and repeatedly breaking the law and then getting caught? I can’t think of one either, and as it turns out a of illegal activity is extremely profitable and easy.

Like with the great scam I can’t go into too much detail about the shit I have pulled but I can let you know enough to get some of you out there thinking of ways you too can be as cool and financially awesome as me.

Now in addition to being an attorney I am also an actor and musician. Actors and musicians have certain common attributes including being lazy and good looking. They also tend to commit crimes and know career criminals that is to say individuals who draw their lively hood from breaking the law.

There’s more to it than just drugs though that is number 1. Stolen and counterfeit merchandise is huge. Number 2 is the large, difficult to classify area of grifting and scams.

So now you are probably wondering where is your cut and what do you have to do to get it? First if you are still thinking about representing these criminals you’re fired. That’s alot of work (which you don’t know how to do because you have been in Big Law all this time) and it’s not nearly as lucrative. What you DO know how to do is look busy, turn people on each other and disappear when the shit hits the fan.

I had some friends who were in the…companionship game let’s say. I discovered what they were doing, went to a few meetings, collected some money and when we all got arrested I walked out of the station in 10 minutes after I said I was just there because they were considering retaining me as their attorney.

Now there is one catch. Usually these people require some kind of leverage on you in order to trust you. In my case I allowed myself to be filmed with one of their under-aged employees. Of course there is no reason for them to ever sell me down the river because as far as they know I am going to jail with them.

Winning!

So apparently My sexual escapades are not fitting for blog entries. Now, any sensible person will tell you that your choice of life partner has more effect on your financial well being than any other BUT since certain of those among us who are celibant against their will are hating…let’s try a new topic, the art of casual conversation.

When I ask you, peon in Debtor’s Prison, how your day was, how you are doing, etc, the correct answer is “fine.” I don’t care if you just got your arm amputated and your puppy died in a vain attempt to save your mother from a burning building.

Next if I ask you a question you should immediately identify how I am trying to seguay into a conversation about myself. Obviously I don’t care what you think. If you just stare blankly I will eventually launch into a monologue that will amount to talking to myself without the stigma BUT you can create the illusion of dialogue with phrases like “I don’t know what do you think?” I could ask for your frikkin name and that is still the best response you can give.

Next if I ask “Are you around at [such and such time]” the correct response is no response simply wait for me to tell you where to be at that time. Of course you are around, you’re unemployed or underemployed. You have no money therefore no worth therefore no life. But for the pathetic sound of your voice a thank you might be in order.

The point is you are a non-entity. That’s why people talk over you, cut you off or treat your latest contribution to a conversation as if it never happened. The sooner you learn this and start playing by the rules the sooner your life will start to make sense albeit in a tragic sort of way. But buying into the rules has it’s advantages. It’s like hazing. Play by the rules, believe in the rules, work to get to the other side of the coin.

I am tired of this meme going around about the 5 slacker commandments.  First, I am insulted that people keep forwarding it to me.  Are you paying attention?! I invented these.  Second, I am pissed that people keep saying I am the poster boy for this, it’s really a backhanded comment when you think about it.  It’s like telling a woman you like her make up.  You’re not supposed to see or notice make-up.  Same thing with bullshitting your way through a law firm.  But the most important thing here is this simple point:  The 5 “slacker” commandments aren’t ONE way to succeed at a law firm, it’s the ONLY way.  It’s not like I’m cheating at a game I could win if I played straight up and just worked harder.  If I did what people who wish they were me pretend to think I ought to do then there is a 100% chance I end up like Benito.  Let’s review.

1: Look like shit so it looks like you’re working hard

That’s work people.  I look good no matter what.  I look good with stubble, I look good with a beard, I look (especially) good naked, I look good and smell good no matter what I’m wearing or how long I’ve worn it.  I have to do some really filthy shit to look how I look on the average work day. I have to wear alot of sweaters to cover up my shredded six pack.

2: Keep a Filthy Office

Again, this is work.  If you work at a peer firm there are people who clean your office.  And this trick is old.  It’s not even so much that your office is dirty or cluttered, it’s that it’s never static.  The landscape is always changing.  Everything looks different.  This ain’t “Catch Me if You Can,” you have to pull this shit day in and day out for years.

3:  Look Busy

I have eleven different routes I walk through this place with specific stops and specific impressions I have to make on specific people.  I have seven different email patterns I use.  I keep statistics on this stuff.  How many emails sent between 2-5 am? How many card swipes on a Sunday? This is how I operate.  And it’s not called slacking.  It’s called getting paid.

4:  Leaving a Paper Trail

All of this is kids play.  I mean checking out books and documents you’re not reading and stacking them on your desk? What are you, 12? Do also hide comicbooks in your legal journals? That’s not a papertrail.  A papertrail is figuring out who makes decisions, cornering that person, and getting them to put in writing what you need to do to make partner AND THEN get an email saying you’re doing it.  That way nobody puts baby in the corner without risking going to court.  If you’re a white boy like me you also need some paper to back up some kind of bullshit story, like you’re bipolar or gay or something.  You know how hard it is to find a doctor to prescribe psychodellic medication you don’t need?  Actually, it’s not that hard.

5.  Work Hard When You Have To

Obviously this is a trick question.  Any assignment you get that requires actual work is probably out of your league.  You’re four years in and you have ABSOLUTELY NO SKILLS.  And you get nervous.  You’re nervous because you can’t so much as sharpen a pencil and you’re nervous because you’ve gotten away with murder for so long you feeel like you’ve got to do something.  Like competently doing one assignment washes away four years of bullshit.  Only it does. It washes away all the good it’s done.  Don’t get caught with the hot potato.  If you want to prove you’re partner material, when you need to get something done find the most competent person willing to do it for the least amount of money, and then discard that very person who just saved your ass like a piece of trash.

So don’t come at me with your bullshit.  If my job ain’t hard, than neither is pimping, pushing or gun running, and I don’t make shit compared to those professions though I degrade myself and others, sell poison and give people the tools to kill.  Do you really want me working harder?

S’up losers? The following story is too deep for most of you.  In the original post I state there is a message for most of you but I lied.  You can read this and feel morally superior to me if you want OR you can read it with an OPEN MIND (unlike Erin and SG) and thoughtfully consider my position.

If I had to identify one thing that is the foundation of my mental and emotional health it is my concise moral code. I am not going to tell you what it is because that would detract from it’s utility. When you share a moral code wayward lost vulnerable people adopt it, then they debate it, then they try and codify it, etc.

But I will say this, one can think of “morals” as a predisposition – like the child of alcoholics are often predisposed to becoming alcoholics themselves. I am predisposed to experiencing discomfort when I engage in certain activities and I have created a code BASED on these predispositions. Now, I realize this is deep so before I go any further let me state up front: my story is about epic greatness involving a SMOKING hot slam piece Russian chick that I am vacillating about whether to take to poundtown via the Hershey Highway BUT it’s relevant to you pions as well because it can teach you how to avoid this “shame” phenomenon Benito writes so much about.

Since some of us don’t have all day in their parent’s basement to write I’ll go easy on the details. A buddy tipped me off that the Princess might be sampling some fratboy’s groin protein shake so I decided to hit the hottest girl in her class. Because I was in a hurry I used what usually works fastest: money. We did everything and when I was through I cleaned myself with one of the Princess’ childhood blankets. Satisfying. Now for the moral dilemma.

So it turns out that this fine undergrad slam piece is actually 26 and used to be a prostitute. Not one of those trashy scags you see in AC or one of those high-class call girls but a child prostitute in the sex trade from the age of 14-19. I found this out when I made anal overtures and just as I was loobing the tip she goes “I could really use help with this semester’s tuition” – now mind you this girl was hot enough that I’d have put her through dental school but she pulled back just short of the promised land with the following “do you want a gf or a whore?” I mean, I was looking for something between a fling and a fuck buddy with a side of revenge but if I had to choose…eh, hard to say. Next thing I know she is crying and telling A LONG story with countries I’d never heard of culminating in her acceptance to UPenn student visa yada yada.

I didn’t bang her then and there but that was strategic. As the only Male under 87 she’s ever known not to either pound her or get paid because she was pounded I am now a god to her. But now I feel bad about banging her, given that I lied about tuition, am seeing someone else and oh yeah went back and tapped the A. And taped it.

The reason I feel bad you see is that she gets sent back if she loses her student visa, which of course she does if her tuition check bounces or never comes. So I ask myself “why am I predisposed to sympathizing with whores?” maybe subconsciously I am aware that a close female relative is or was a whore. Maybe and I am man enough to admit it. We accept we can have whore sisters and daughters because we are forced to watch it happen. Just because nobody wanted mommy after our half-bastard selves made them tight as a moo-moo and as perky as snot hanging from a nail doesn’t mean she is anymore virtuous. Also it could be my feelings for the Princess. She’s not a prostitute in that she takes money for sex like a cashier takes money for groceries. She’s more like an exclusive club where you need money to have your membership considered, and there are considerable dues.

In the end I think I will keep hitting it because what if on a future psych evaluation my whore sympathy might become known and reflect poorly on the fam or the princess.  Still, I am worried that I spent the better part of a beer contemplating this as this might get my bro card revoked.  Still, I’m also man enough to admit that even an alpha bro with a hundred notches in his belt occasionally accidentally develops feelings for a skank.  You’re predisposed to something in this particular trick’s nature to cause you to act differently.  Doing the “right” thing is therefore an indulgence.  Take her to poundtown and send her out the door by 7…resist that urge to get donuts and coffee.

As far as I’m concerned the show should be called One and a Half Men…and Charlie Sheen is that one and a half.  Charlie Sheen gets alot of attention for being the (former) highest paid TV actor. Who cares? TV is for losers, it’s like contract work in the legal world. That’s not what makes Sheen rich. Sheen is rich because he has so much damn time on his hands. You have this wealth of time too, and in a similar environment of zero accountability, easy access to drugs and loose women…where showing up for work for two hours a day does actually induce others to give you kudos.  This place is called Academia.  Let me put it another way.  What does the best law school in the country (Yale) produce? Law Professors.  Why? Law Professors aren’t rich after all (though they make more money than most of us ever will).  The reason is that in academia you have TIME and ZERO ACCOUNTABILITY.

Trust me on this one.  As a bro I competed with law professors to take slam pieces to pound town all the time.  I had to let a number of the professors see me take pictures of them with my phone in order to scare them away from my prey.  Also as an actor, even I pass up most opportunities for pilots in favor of small roles in films and the occasional commercial.  Why? Look at the Mac Book kid.  He hocs computers for a couple of years and suddenly he’s standing next to Bruce Willis in Die Hard 4.  Ever see that kid on “How I Met Your Mother?” Hell no.

This is supposed to be one of those rare uplifting posts.  Work with me kids.

Regardless of what the market is like at least right now you can pretty much do whatever you want, and get the money to pay for it.  In fact, the dismal economic situation has caused a lot of your female classmates to realize that they’re never going to be able to get married and have children.  The best they can hope for is that a sibling five years younger or older might luck out and produce offspring so there is someone to bury their crazy spinster Aunt.  Once a woman starts thinking like this she ceases to think each guy might be “the one” and starts to think that each guy might be “the last.” This usually coincides with the revelation that once they graduate they will be exposed to the same let’s say…seven males each day between 20 and 60 who are even capable of having sex and that’s IF they are lucky enough to find some kind of employment, otherwise the number is 0-2.  Guys, could it be any easier?

Yes.  Ask a woman a simple question.  That question is “Do you have a cat?” If the answer is yes she will go home with you that night.  If the answer is two, she will invite you back to her place.  Three or more and you can take her into the bathroom and do whatever you want to her.  You don’t even have to keep your abs tight gentlemen (unless you’re losing your hair).

Guys it’s like this.  I have a frenemy who works for an engineering firm, never had any debt and he’s also a whiz at picking his own stocks.  I hate his politics and I am jealous of his accomplishments.  But you know what? He’s fat and his parents never got his teeth fixed and I know based on the awkward facebook messages he leaves on female friend’s pages that he is three months from being a 30 year-old virgin.  The guy whose banging the hottest girl wins.  There are no desirable men left.  Regardless of your money or employment status put yourself in a place where there are constantly a surplus of women between 15 – 35 and you will get laid for the rest of your life.  Sure, you can’t fall in love because if you stay with any one woman long enough your inadequacy as a mate will eventually occur to her but that can be a blessing in disguise.

Remember, we don’t love them ‘hos.

I love you Charlie.  Keep on keeping it real you stupid, drunk addict bastard.  If you need a lawyer holler at me! Text David Chapelle if you need a reference.

This is for my peeps who are pimps first and professionals second – the type of slick mothers who can hop on a plane to a country where they can’t speak the language with only the clothes on their back and spend three months with the type of women suicide bombers dream about.

This is also in response to Sweet Hot Justice who wrote a piece “Biglaw Bros: Why Slam Pieces DON’T Want You.” The article can be found here

http://www.sweethotjustice.com/2011/03/01/biglaw-bros-why-slam-pieces-dont-want-you/

and reposted on ATL here

http://abovethelaw.com/2011/03/biglaw-bros-why-slam-pieces-don%E2%80%99t-want-you/

Basically SHJ says that dimes aren’t interested because at the end of the day even the most successful lawyer doesn’t make shit compared to a finance guy and law just ain’t sexy.  And you know what? She’s right.  But dimes want you anyway.  Why? Let me explain.

Basically it comes down to this: having an angle.  Think Owen Wilson from “Meet the Parents.” He didn’t present himself as an investment banker or whatever the hell he was.  He presented himself as a carpenter or some kind of artist or…I must admit, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen that movie.  The point is you don’t sell yourself as a lawyer, you sell yourself as a cowboy, athlete, musician, actor, writer, etc.  Then once she’s interested you might let it drop that law is your day job, and then the beamer the valet brings around fills in the rest of the blanks for her.

No disrespect to women, but they are dumb and predictable.  A woman wants love first and security second.  That’s why you present sexy/poor and then let it drop that yeah, actually you can pay the bills.  This is actually what most girls want because women have it ingrained in them at an early age that to make a man’s income the DOMINANT factor in whether they go out with, date or engage in relations with, makes them a whore.  Again, believe it or not, most women do not want to FEEL LIKE whores.  Even the extremely hot ones.

SHJ presents the stereotypical gold-digger who also happens to be a dime.  She doesn’t give you the time of day because your buck sixty ain’t shit compared to the kid who plans to be a millionaire next year.  She also acts like she doesn’t care that her behavior makes her feel cheap.  Surely, the lowly lawyer has no shot at this gal right? Wrong.  Here’s why.

A gold digger wants to MARRY the finance guy.  That’s what a gold digger is.  They don’t just dig up the gold to look at it, or take a few gold pieces and put them in the bank just to get a taste of the good life.  The gold digger wants to marry the finance guy.  Now, being smart, and SHJ insists that she is, does she sleep with the finance guy right off the bat? No.  Otherwise he will think she is what she is, whorish and cheap.  Now, enter the law guy.  She can spot a lawyer by now, mostly by the conversation and their tendency to spend more time checking email with their phones rather than taking calls.  Definitely no gold, only copper.  But copper will do for a night.  At this point whether the lawyer does or does not go home with the girl depends on only two things 1) how physically attractive she finds him and 2) him not fucking it up by talking.

But I haven’t even gotten to the best part.  Let’s look at our competition, the finance guys and the doctors.  Dudes, these people have to work for a living.  The BEST thing about us and our MOST VALUABLE advantage is that we’re not measured by some objective end result, like portfolio performance or lives saved.  We’re measured on hours we bill, arbitrarily and inconsistently reviewed.  We actually have TIME to become the moderately decent musicians, the supporting actors in independent films and the fledgling writers that make for good bar conversation.  We have the TIME to be interesting.  And we have the TIME to go to the gym so we can at least look respectable.

After all, women are just people like us.  And at the end of the day people have sex with sexy.