It's not a pinata, but it's still pretty sweet.

Oh, pinatas. Often I think back on the pinata brief, fondly of course. Such good times, so many laughs. [A video montage of my feelings on this matter would be set to the song "This used to be my playground." But that is neither here nor there.]

I miss the pinata brief. And while bad writing is everywhere, sometimes it lacks panache. I find myself wistfully sighing, "Where have all the pinatas gone?" I've tried, with some success, to recapture the joy it brought me. In my darker moments, I think that I will never see another piece of legal writing so melodramatic, so poetically overwritten as that.

But like that last swing at the pinata, after several whiffs, finally connecting when you thought you'd again be the laughingstock of all the kids at the party, this single sentence brings me hope:

"On November 29, plaintiff declared the legal equivalent of nuclear war by serving its first amended complaint on defendant."

So simple, so good.

And I'm sure you're wondering, What, what absolutely egregious legal maneuver, beyond all bounds of legal legitimacy, did plaintiff do? With the benefit of the entire (not that interesting) brief, I can enlighten you, gentle reader: Pretty much just serving a complaint. About real estate. Seriously.

"And you shall know them by the trail of piñata..."

Nothing beats a good piñata metaphor.* A good piñata metaphor is so satisfying that it's hard to stomach a poorly executed one. We here at LWW are 100% committed to generating dialogue on best practices for piñata metaphor in the hopes that no piñata metaphor will fail to live up to its potential, and no metaphorical candy loving children will be left behind. LWW: A catalyst for change.

Example:

Over the next few months, CIC apparently began to sense that claimants were circling ATG much like stick-wielding children around a piñata.

It's not bad, mind, but there is absolutely no excuse for a half assed metaphor about piñatas. This is my version:

Over the next few months, CIC apparently began to sense that claimants were circling ATG much like laser-wielding tiger sharks around a chum-filled piñata at a dystopian underwater birthday nightmare.

(Unfortunately, when the circling ceased, no money spilled out.)

Another example:

In competitive markets, an ILEC can't be used as a piñata.

My version:

In competitive markets, an ILEC can't be used as a piñata. What are you, some kind of fucking retard? Go back to Russia. Prick.

And finally:

If a litigant knows that he or someone aligned on his side has not consented, he can keep silent, and grant his consent if the magistrate judge decides in his favor, but withhold his consent and get another crack at the piñata if the magistrate judge decides against him.

This, I think, is the idea counsel is really trying to express:

If a litigant knows that he or someone aligned on his side has not consented, he can keep silent, and grant his consent if the magistrate judge decides in his favor, but withhold his consent and get another crack-filled piñata if the magistrate judge decides against him.

* Except for the metaphorical children, beating it with metaphorical sticks.

An Unnecessarily Literal Discourse on Metaphorical Geography

While this is not as cringe-worthy as most of our selections here at LWW, the mind-blowing obviousness of the metaphor (or, perhaps more generously, its failure to synch up with the rest of the sentence in any illuminating way) earned it a spot.

This superficial agreement masks significant conflict, however, in the standards that the circuit courts use to identify the “rare and exceptional” cases that warrant equitable tolling. It also masks significant disparity in the frequency with which the various circuit courts grant equitable tolling to untimely habeas prisoners. Literally and figuratively, the courts are all over the map, and the chief determining factors in whether an untimely habeas petition will survive a motion to dismiss would seem to be the location of the prisoner and the court in which he files.

Was this written by 13-year-old aspiring John Grisham?

If not, it's just embarrassing:

Defendant [prison guards] entered [plaintiff's] cell with plans for a party. And though [plaintiff] was invited to this party, his only purpose at this party was to be their personal pinata. Once Defendant[s] entered the cell they began putting a whooping on [plaintiff] like none he had ever experienced before. Each of the Defendant[s] took turns punching and kicking [plaintiff] in the head and torso of his body. Unfortunately, when the beating had ceased, no candy spilled out of [plaintiff], rather, he was left with three broken ribs from this brutal and savage attack.

1. Sorry for the excessive bracketing, but after a traumatic pinata experience, the guy deserves some anonymity. But not so much that his pain shouldn't be posted as fodder for amusement, of course.

2. To clarify for any non-lawyers out there, "putting a whooping" is not a term of art.

3. I think the head of my body is getting a headache. Of my body.

4. The metaphor was so good that the final comma splice was really gilding the lily.

The One that Got Away was Even Bigger!

From a pro se litigant, explaining why 28 USC 2241's limitations period for filing habeas claims does not bar his petition:

Petitioner has made/shown diligent deep sea fishing and as a result hooked a predicate not knowing it's revelation.