John G. Browning, a Partner at Spencer Fane LLP.

We're all going a little stir-crazy during this pandemic, but sometimes it seems that someone has turned the occasional oddness of the legal system up to 11. Recently, we had the U.S. Supreme Court making history with its first telephonic oral arguments, and all anyone can talk about is "the flush heard 'round the world." In the midst of oral arguments during Barr v. American Association of Political Consultants, and just as attorney Roman Martinez was arguing that the right to robocall is protected by the First Amendment, the distinctive sound of someone flushing a toilet projected across the court's live audio. Was the culprit a tech-challenged justice who forgot to mute? We may never know, but the incident certainly gave new meaning to live streaming or "doo" process.

And speaking of toilet humor, a recent cease-and-desist letter provided a master class in the art of giving one's adversary crap. Attorney Kevin Christopher took exception to the company Poo-Pourri denigrating his poop spray-manufacturing client, Turdcules at a tradeshow. In a very entertaining cease-and-desist letter that covered everything from Poo-Pourri's insinuations about the toxicity of Turdcules' product to its attacking of Turdcules' bearded mascot, "The Craptain," Christopher made fun of the rival company's attempt to portray itself as "classy." Chiding his counterpart at Poo-Pourri that it was hard to regard a company that sought trademark rights to terms like "brown load" and "yule logs" as classy, Christopher reminded him to "just remember at the end of the day both companies sell poop spray, not diamonds." Whoever prevails in this dispute will certainly be flush with success, if not smelling like a rose.

Some might say this pandemic has left some of those in the legal profession with too much time on their hands, and that's definitely true of some law professors. University of Iowa law professor Gregory Shill came up with the "Yada Yada Law School," a free online 10-week lecture series through the prism of the beloved TV show "Seinfeld." The Zoom school isn't about nothing, but instead has volunteer professors from schools like Stanford teaching about contracts, constitutional law, criminal procedure, and other subjects using clips from "Seinfeld" to illustrate key concepts. Shill had no problem attracting professors with a fondness for Jerry, George, Kramer and Elaine, for the series that starts June 3; he's filled such "positions" as the "Newman U.S.P.S. Professor of Law," the "Jackie Chiles Chair in Constitutional Criminal Procedure," and the "Art Vandelay Dean and Kenny Rogers Roasters Foundation Chair in Business Law." As Shill says, "The idea is to provide some entertainment during quarantine while offering some educational value." I can't argue with that, Professor Shill; we're all just "Puddy" in your hands. I bet students will get an education that's real and spectacular.

Some people's humor during quarantine might seem creepy to others. For example, when Virginia three-star restaurant The Inn at Little Washington reopened May 15, it had a unique way of coping with state mandates about limited capacity and social distancing. Instead of letting half the restaurant sit vacant, Chef Patrick O'Connell filled half of his dining room with life-size mannequins dressed in 1940s-ish garb. Servers were even instructed to pour them wine and ask them about their evening. And if that's not odd enough for you, Florida attorney Daniel Uhlfelder has been roaming beaches in his state dressed like the Grim Reaper. Intending to draw attention to the dangers of returning to public beaches while the coronavirus death toll continues to climb, the litigator/harvester of souls dons a hooded black robe and wields a plastic scythe as he wanders the sands. Whether you label it a public stunt or a public health warning, Uhlfelder's unusual protest has gained national coverage from outlets like CNN and Saturday Night Live.

And finally, there are good ways to respond to a bar disciplinary complaint, and there are bad ways to do so. Thanks to a May 12 ruling from the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court, we now know that "Boom Shakalaka" is not an acceptable response to such a complaint. Apparently Lowell, Massachusetts, lawyer Ilya Liviz was administratively suspended for practicing in April 2019, but he continued to render legal services—a finding that led a trial judge to find him in contempt for not complying with the suspension order. Liviz's response to the bar counsel's investigation consisted of the words "SILENCE. (BOOM SHAKALAKA)." Massachusetts's highest court affirmed the contempt finding, holding that Liviz made "no meaningful attempt to challenge" it on appeal.

And there you have it—Boom Shakalaka!

John G. Browning is a Dallas-based attorney who handles a wide variety of civil litigation in state and federal courts.