When you graduate from law school you get two letters next to your name for the three years of effort and debt. Those letters are J.D., and in theory they stand for “Juris Doctor.” Sometimes, those letters stand for “Justa Dickhead.”
Submitted for your humble consideration is such a motherfucker by the name of J. Wade Smith, an attorney from Lake Charles, Louisiana, working mighty hard to make those of us who call ourselves lawyers look mighty shitty.
J. Wade has a neighbor named Elizabeth Richards. Ms. Richards either has kids or lets kids play in her yard. On November 10, two children were kicking a football in Ms. Richards’ yard. One kick sent the football “dead center” into the “designer metal fence” surrounding J. Wade’s property.
Yes, I’m using scare quotes for a reason. Be patient.
One kid said “Sorry” when J. Wade noticed the horror of no significant damage whatsoever to his precious designer metal fence. I’d imagine the children continued to play football after that.
J. Wade, however, was not amused in the slightest. Nor was J.Wade in a forgiving mood.
How do we know this, friends? Because J. Wade Smith decided to send Ms. Richards a letter. On his office letterhead.
Now before I get into the specifics of said letter, let’s examine the ways J. Wade could have handled this like a normal person. He could’ve knocked on Ms. Richards’ door and asked politely about the situation. He could’ve maybe said, “Please be more careful” to the children that day. At bare minimum, if he wanted to be so goddamn passive-aggressive to his next door neighbor, he could have bitched about it on social media like Nextdoor or Twitter.
But as we shall see, dear readers, J. Wade Smith is no normal man.
First, marvel at the thought of J. Wade using his official letterhead to send his next-door neighbor a threatening letter. And using the signature block of “J. Wade Smith, Attorney-At-Law.” This is a guy who’s not just sending vibes to the universe that he’s a dickhead, he’s practically screaming “I have a tiny penis and huge issues I must overcompensate with my imaginary superior status in life!’’
Now to the cliff notes of the letter itself. J. Wade details the non-incident on November 10, explains to Ms. Richards that hits to his precious “designer metal fence,” “at minimum, weakens [its] stability.” He then goes on to list another egregious offense of children kicking a football over the fence and into his yard. It narrowly missed the fence.
Next comes the good part. J. Wade tells Ms. Richards if anything happens to his precious fence there will be “financial consequences.” While he welcomes Ms. Richards to the neighborhood in one breath, he threatens to bill her for “accidental property damage.”
The nerve of this fucking guy. This motherfucker’s threatening a woman for letting kids play football in her yard all because he can’t stand the thought of his precious designer metal fence getting damaged?
Let me break this down for the non-lawyers who come to SJ. J. Wade’s fence gets damaged, hypothetically. He sends Ms. Richards a bill for the damage. Ms. Richards tells him to fuck off. J. Wade then spends time and money actually bringing the lawsuit to court.
I’ll give you the verdict right now. The judge says “Kids will be kids, counselor. Case dismissed.”
This is the kind of LOLsuit nonsense no judge wants to hear. The money J. Wade spends on bringing the suit to court will be perceived by jurists as a waste of the legal system. He’ll look like an asshole for bringing this to court, and immediately alienate his neighbors just for being such a tremendous dick.
So J. Wade, if you’re reading this and you actually sent this letter, you’re a gigantic dick and a disgrace to the legal profession. And I feel sorry for Ms. Richards and her kids who suffered the misfortune of having your miserable ass as a neighbor.
In the distinct possibility Mr. Smith didn’t actually send this letter to Ms. Richards: J. Wade, I think you should know some asshole’s sending out letters with your name on them. And you might want to know they’re using your office letterhead. You might want to call a staff meeting and correct this problem.
Happy Black Friday, friends! If you’re out shopping for discounts, I hope you’ve got on your best combat boots, infected yourself with something good and contagious, and have your best truncheon ready. If you’re the sensible type staying indoors, good on you.
Come back next week when I’ll get back to more jokes.
h/t Rick Horowitz.