Three years of law school, thirty some odd exams, untold thousands of dollars, immeasurable vats of hate, and it is only now that I realize I should have been digging a tunnel out of here all along.
Now I must escape an exam or two and then my (ill-fated) motorcycle jump over the fence.
I’ll be damned if those fuckers are gonna take me alive (or in a gown and tam).
So screw graduation.
I’m going to go sit in my room, throw a baseball against the Goddamned wall, and prepare a series of mnemonic devices to help me remember the remedies available to a seller involved with a breaching buyer in a sale of goods when both parties are merchants specializing (or holding themselves out as experts) in the field of said goods.
Cue the fucking theme music:
Friday, May 7, 2004
The Steve McQueen of the Uniform Commercial Code
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