Pets & Grief
Eighteen years ago, a month into my addiction recovery, I attended a 12-step meeting where someone shared about losing his dog. He cried through his story, and I wept for him. I had a beagle named Peanut, and the thought of losing him was unbearable. I turned to my sponsor and whispered, “If that happens to Peanut, I’m sure I’ll go out (relapse).”
Additional Articles
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Happy Hour
JANIE WAS WORKING through the needlessly briny, settled half of her shitty martini, in gulps of two, when she spotted his blazer, jeans, and wingtips breaching the stainedglass gates of the asinine hipster drinking den on which he had insisted via text late night at 2:51 in the morning when she had made the tragic…
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He Was a Brilliant Lawyer
In 2020, a dear friend lost his fight with alcohol and mental health. He was a brilliant lawyer. He was first in his law school class, clerked for the Supreme Court, and had the successful career to match. And then he wasn’t there any more. I miss my friend.
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Law Firm Pushes Back on AI Accusations After Court Flags Faulty Citations
A prominent law firm has denied using artificial intelligence to generate flawed legal citations after a federal judge identified multiple citation errors in a motion to dismiss. The firm’s formal…
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