Judy asked excitedly. By now, several people around the table were frowning and nodding slowly—aping the way the mighty
Frank
Carter used to show approval back when he was still running the firm. Like many of our founding partner’s mannerisms, this one had leached clear through to the firm’s lowest echelons.
“Yep. And it would only take a few hundred words to do it.” Josh handed her a printout of his proposed text. “Fido could slide it into an omnibus spending bill, and no one would even notice.”
“Please,” Judy chided. “Let’s not call the senator ‘Fido.’ People might get the feeling that he’s our lapdog, or something.”
That one was definitely a joke, so we all chuckled merrily.
“But kidding aside,” she continued, “you’re telling me that if someone walks down Lexington in fake Nikes, your modified legislation could nail him for a hundred and fifty grand?”
“Absolutely.”
Now everyone was frowning and nodding, as excitementrippled through the room. If Josh was right, and if the major brands would play ball, entire law practices could be built around this idea.
“But what if someone doesn’t know they bought a knockoff?” Randy asked. He has this thing for fairness, which does his career no favors.
“Stupidity’s no alibi,” Judy snapped. “If it was, Kato Kaelin would be walking the streets today!” Of course, ol’ Kato
is
walking the streets, just as he always has. But no one dared to point this out, as bizarre non sequiturs are another Judy trademark. Some whisper that they point to a mild case of Tourette’s syndrome. But since they never pop up in client meetings, I’m sure she’s just messing with us,
Idi Amin–style.
Judy turned to the man of the hour. “Write this up, Josh. I want to present it at the next partners’ meeting. It’s a brilliant idea.” And with that, she spun on a heel and faced me. “But who knows? Maybe Nick Carter is even smarter than you are. We’ve always wondered.”
I felt like my elevator just lost its cable on the hundred and somethingth floor.
Was Randy right?
Had the firm decided to give me a final test, to see if I was worthy of receiving The Omen and sticking around? Or did Judy just want to pummel me one last time before showing me the door?
“Why don’t we find out, Nick,” she was saying in a steely, even tone. “Top Josh’s idea.
Now
.” And with that, Judy achieved the impossible, and drove all thoughts about alien incursions completely from my mind. I was suddenly fully grounded in my ordinary, daily life. And it
sucked
.
I looked at Judy as calmly as I could. “Music and movie piracy …”
I slipped into a dramatic pause as I desperately tried tocome up with some idea, any idea. I scanned the room for inspiration, briefly glimpsed Randy and—I had my answer.
“… are
terrorism
.”
Randy shot me a horrified look. I was about to lay out a notion that he once dreamed up over beers. It was just a sick joke between sophomoric colleagues, and Randy clearly thought I’d get fired immediately if I presented it as a serious proposition. He was right to worry—but this was the only thing I could think of that was more audacious, grasping, and twisted than Josh’s idea of suing secretaries and college girls into bankruptcy over their fake Chanel
bags. And Judy might just love it.
“I’m all ears,” she said levelly.
“As you know, our legal system has traditionally viewed several specific crimes as being acts of terror,” I said, as my calming superpower kicked in. “So why not slide a few paragraphs into the Patriot Act to put music piracy and peer-to-peer file sharing right up there with dirty bombs and hijacked planes? We could give Fido some political cover by cooking up a story about al-Qaeda using BitTorrent to transmit their nefarious
communiqués.”
The room was perfectly silent as everyone waited for Judy to signal whether they should love or loathe this idea.
“A change in the law
Frank
Carter used to show approval back when he was still running the firm. Like many of our founding partner’s mannerisms, this one had leached clear through to the firm’s lowest echelons.
“Yep. And it would only take a few hundred words to do it.” Josh handed her a printout of his proposed text. “Fido could slide it into an omnibus spending bill, and no one would even notice.”
“Please,” Judy chided. “Let’s not call the senator ‘Fido.’ People might get the feeling that he’s our lapdog, or something.”
That one was definitely a joke, so we all chuckled merrily.
“But kidding aside,” she continued, “you’re telling me that if someone walks down Lexington in fake Nikes, your modified legislation could nail him for a hundred and fifty grand?”
“Absolutely.”
Now everyone was frowning and nodding, as excitementrippled through the room. If Josh was right, and if the major brands would play ball, entire law practices could be built around this idea.
“But what if someone doesn’t know they bought a knockoff?” Randy asked. He has this thing for fairness, which does his career no favors.
“Stupidity’s no alibi,” Judy snapped. “If it was, Kato Kaelin would be walking the streets today!” Of course, ol’ Kato
is
walking the streets, just as he always has. But no one dared to point this out, as bizarre non sequiturs are another Judy trademark. Some whisper that they point to a mild case of Tourette’s syndrome. But since they never pop up in client meetings, I’m sure she’s just messing with us,
Idi Amin–style.
Judy turned to the man of the hour. “Write this up, Josh. I want to present it at the next partners’ meeting. It’s a brilliant idea.” And with that, she spun on a heel and faced me. “But who knows? Maybe Nick Carter is even smarter than you are. We’ve always wondered.”
I felt like my elevator just lost its cable on the hundred and somethingth floor.
Was Randy right?
Had the firm decided to give me a final test, to see if I was worthy of receiving The Omen and sticking around? Or did Judy just want to pummel me one last time before showing me the door?
“Why don’t we find out, Nick,” she was saying in a steely, even tone. “Top Josh’s idea.
Now
.” And with that, Judy achieved the impossible, and drove all thoughts about alien incursions completely from my mind. I was suddenly fully grounded in my ordinary, daily life. And it
sucked
.
I looked at Judy as calmly as I could. “Music and movie piracy …”
I slipped into a dramatic pause as I desperately tried tocome up with some idea, any idea. I scanned the room for inspiration, briefly glimpsed Randy and—I had my answer.
“… are
terrorism
.”
Randy shot me a horrified look. I was about to lay out a notion that he once dreamed up over beers. It was just a sick joke between sophomoric colleagues, and Randy clearly thought I’d get fired immediately if I presented it as a serious proposition. He was right to worry—but this was the only thing I could think of that was more audacious, grasping, and twisted than Josh’s idea of suing secretaries and college girls into bankruptcy over their fake Chanel
bags. And Judy might just love it.
“I’m all ears,” she said levelly.
“As you know, our legal system has traditionally viewed several specific crimes as being acts of terror,” I said, as my calming superpower kicked in. “So why not slide a few paragraphs into the Patriot Act to put music piracy and peer-to-peer file sharing right up there with dirty bombs and hijacked planes? We could give Fido some political cover by cooking up a story about al-Qaeda using BitTorrent to transmit their nefarious
communiqués.”
The room was perfectly silent as everyone waited for Judy to signal whether they should love or loathe this idea.
“A change in the law
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