ONE HUNDRED AND NINETY ONE

John Frank Weaver‘s Artisanal Attorney:

“How is an artisanal attorney different from any other attorney? Like other artisans, I pay close attention to my ingredients and process; I am intimately involved in all stages of creation. Other attorneys print their documents on paper they buy in mass-produced boxes, tens of thousands of sheets at a time, using ink that mechanically jets onto the page. I make my own paper by hand, using the traditional methods of 14th-century book publishers, who printed their works on linen and vellum. The flax for the linen grows along the sides of a nearby swimming hole, and the plants’ growth is influenced by the laughter of children in the summer, when I pick it by hand. The vellum comes from the grass-fed cows of an area farm; to give the cows more agency in the vellum-making process, I let them choose the pumice I will treat their hides with after slaughter. I also make my own ink, using the ink of squid I raise myself in a PETA-approved salt-water aquarium in my office. You can meet all my squid during our initial meeting and pick which one you want for the ink on your will or healthcare power of attorney.

After crafting your paper and extracting your ink, I painstakingly draft your legal documents using the tools and techniques of an 18th-century barrister. A feather quill will write the motion to dismiss your traffic ticket on a beautiful vellum sheet in large, ornate letters that will appear familiar to you if you’ve looked at a reproduction on the “Conftitution.” S’s will look like f’s, the first word of each paragraph will be comically oversized in the historic manner, and all documents will be rolled up like a poster, just like the Declaration of Independence and Constitution.”

ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY SIX

I don’t have the luxury of writing notes by hand anymore — the time it would take to digitize the volumes of notebooks I’d produce would just be overwhelming. So, I’ve switched to typing in lectures, sacrificing quality for the Command-F function.

There’s still something so beautiful about reading someone else’s handwriting though.

May I ask you to understand that I did not read the contract before doing so. I only did it for your legal dept’s benefit.

Johnny Cash, 1964, from Letters of Note.

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