Monday, December 15, 2014

Dean Satan's Christmas Carols, Volume I

OUR HERO in the Valentino suit with the pure silver cufflinks and the adorable red horns poking through his immovable sculpture of salt-and-pepper hair had a minor problem.

"Applications are still falling," Dean Satan huffed to the boardroom of esteemed faculty and donors.  "Kids these days simply don't understand the long-term benefits of a legal education."

Professor Mammon, a ninety-year-old who hid the smell of cancer with astringent aftershave and jokes from the 70s, slowly raised his shaking hand.  "I think we could use an LLM program in something new and current."  He rustled around in his saddlebag and pulled out a real actual newspaper.  "Russian law," he said.  "Oil law.  Horoscope law..."

"No," Dean Satan snapped.  "We need to attract fresh blood."

"Let's have one of those wine soirees," Professor Sin said, her eyes wide with excitement at the prospect.  "The new students always love those.  Let's just invite the prospectives, get everyone hammered, and have then sign master promissory notes at 2 a.m.  It's how I bought my lake house!"

"Tempting," Dean Satan replied in his grease-slick tone.  "Most tempting.  But I fear not even free mid-shelf booze can remove the torpor of this bunch.  No, we need something truly devious, something truly soul-clenching, revolutionary in its ability to make moderately-intelligent people believe our horseshit."

"A jingle!" Assistant Dean Beelzebub said.  He was just 26 and fresh out of a Supreme Court clerkship term, but he obviously brought with him the cutting insight of the sharpest legal minds.  Shit like this is why he taught courses like contracts and such.  "I've got eight cars because of those holiday jingles.  Surely we can get the suckers to fall in line if we lure them like Pied Pipers to our snowmobiles of jurisawesome!  I mean, most of our arguments for law school are just repeating the same discredited things over and over again.  Why not do it in song?

And what happened, then?
Well, in Hellville they say -
that Dean Satan's small heart
grew three sizes that day.
And when he recovered
in the hospital room
Dean Satan found the idea
simply unable to doom!

"We'll do Christmas Carols to market our law school!" he yelled with a fire of, well, hellfire.  Boom!

...somewhere, on a public access station...

  ...a jazz beat, piano intro...a group of handsome devils sings into a microphone...

Your phone rings; have a listen
Law school calls; your future glistens
A beautiful sight; protect some animal rights
Walkin' in a law school wonderland...

When you're a lawyer you can build a straw man
And sell it to a judge with robe and crown
He's ask "are you smokin'?"
You'll say "Law, Man!"
"And add some costs and fees; let's party down!"

Later on, you'll conspire,
while a-drunk, in the mire,
To face unafraid,
All the models you've laid,
Walking in a law school wonderland...

...key change, mood change to stately, festive...Professor Moloch - late 40s, fatter, bearded, maybe runs a blog on rock music and the law or something - steps up to a microphone...

Good King InfiLaw looked out;
On the Feast of Schemin'
Middling LSATs all about
Deep and crisp and even
Brightly shone their futures bright
Tho' the news was cru-el
When their applications came
"Welcome to our schoo-ooo-el...."

...minor key, somber, like, a hymn or something...Professor Sin steps up to a DIFFERENT microphone...

O Come O Come Emmanuel
And ransom captive all those 0 Ls
That mourn in lonely exile here
where jobs for undergrads have disappeared
Law will change your unemployment hell.

...massive drum beat, Professor M.C. Mephistophales is in da hizzy...

Sittin' in my office readin' my law book hard
And I thought to call up, a champion of justice
Picked up the telephone, then dialed the seven digits
Said, "hey, want to talk wit' me about Hobby Lobby?"

I arrived at her house, knocked on the door
Not having no idea of what the night had in store
I'm like a dog in heat, a freak without warnin'
We talked about the ACA 'til early next mornin' this point, Professor M.C. Mephistophales raps "Me so horny...for law!" in between Dean Satan singing "All I want for Christmas is more butts in seats..."

Abrupt stop...a spotlight shines on a child who has been pushed onto the stage at gunpoint...

Jolly lawyers everywhere,
Lean your ears this way!
I just might, starve real soon
hear what I have to say.

Notice applications swoon,
listen while you can,
my Boomer counsel retires soon
who will replace that man?

When his career strikes at twelve
And fees rise up real steep;
Our promises to justice, well,
how can you claim to keep?

Johnny wants a pair of skates
Susie wants a sled
Me I just want counsel to
protect my home and bread.

 The child is unceremoniously ushered to the pits of hell, which, in this scenario, is a green room with watered-down orange drink.  The piano goes upbeat and Dean Satan, Prof. Mammon, and a ghastly pale figure called Spoiler step forward...

Spoiler:  Alright you lawprofs, ready to sing your song?
Dean Satan:  Every year!
Spoiler:  Okay, Mammon?
Prof. Mammon:  I think I wet myself.
Spoiler:  Okay, Mammon?
Prof. Mammon:  Ready.
Spoiler:  Satan?...Satan?...SATAN?!?!?
Dear Satan:  Ready!

Christmas, Christmas, time is near;
Like the bar, it's every year.
Go to family, advertise!
Dean Satan:  Imagine the view from your high rise!
We can hardly stand the wait; please don't apply here late.

Spoiler:  Okay, fellas, get ready. That was good, Prof. Mammon
Prof Mammon:  I met JFK once.
Spoiler:  I meant the singing.
Prof. Mammon:  My CV is 30 pages long.
Spoiler:  Uh, Dean Satan, only 35% of your students passed the bar exam last year....Satan?...Satan?...SATAN?!?!?!
Dean Satan:  Fuck you, asshole, it's the bar examiners.

Abrupt darknessSuper-cool laser light show.  Symphony orchestra starts playing "Carol of the Bells."

Hark! Zero Ls
Sweet Zero Ls
All seem to say,
"Debt bombs away."
Law school is here
Build good career
For young and old
Meek and the bold
All really want to study, helps you buddy, any path you may take!
JD, JD, JD, JD 'vantage
JD, JD, JD, JD 'vantage


...fade into Prof. Belial strumming at a guitar in the corner...

Billy, the English major,
chose to get a law degree
and if you ever saw it,
you would want to get a J.D.

All of the econ majors,
used to laugh and call him names
then never let poor Billy
play their silly MBA games

Then one foggy Christmas Eve
The big firm came to say
"Billy, with your mind so bright,
won't you lead our bet-the-company fight?"

Then all the MBAs loved him,
and they shouted out with glee,
Billy, the Super Esquire,
You'll go down in history!


Editor's note:  I hope you have enjoyed another thrilling adventure in the Dean Satan Chronicles.  I will likely not be posting again until after Christmas.  So, be you hero or villainous whiner or a lost soul in the chasm of unfathomable uncertainty, the LSTC wishes you a happy holiday of your choosing, or just a good December if you dislike all the present options.  

Please feel free to add your own holiday songs for Dean Satan and the gang in the comments section, but please note that particularly good ones may be stolen and incorporated into a future post, as is lawyer tradition.

God bless us, every one, tho' obviously me a wee bit more than others.  Happy holidays---

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