Mass Torts Shmorts — Eat My Shorts.
Bart Simpson receiving the spark of life. The image parodies Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in Florence, Italy.
I don’t know from Yiddish. I do realize that I just used a Yiddish idiom. And Yiddish supplied the "shm" prefix to disparage "torts" in the title of this item.
What do I have against torts? You have to ask?
I actually adore torts. Fraud, trespass, tortious interference, prima facie tort, statutory tort, torts with shrimp, tort gumbo — you name it. But I care bubkes for mass torts. At least most of them.
My kvetching results from dreck I received in the guise of an email . The spam spiels its purpose in the subject line: "Drug Coated Stents — A New Mass Tort Opportunity". Oy! But wait. It also says that "a giant pool of potential litigants" exists and goes on to offer a "turnkey solution for mass tort advertising". Services include ad placement and provision of "24 x 7 call center intake specialists". You can even get help with financing your campaign and in "referring clients" to a "vast network of law firms if you have too many cases to handle." Oy vey! Nerrishkeit!
Macher author John Grisham potches mass tort lawyers in The King of Torts (2003). Grisham ridicules them for their chutzpah in revving up mass tort litigation for gelt — lots and lots of gelt. But Grisham’s contempt for accuracy makes him a nebbish — possibly even a schmendrik — of legal writing. He equates mass tort litigation with class actions, an error so meshuga that it turns the entire book into little more than schlock. What a schmuck.
Still, Grisham captures the venality that characterizes some players of the mass tort game. A real mitzvah by the author.
Which brings us to Bart Simpson. The zaftig boychik of Homer and Marge, Bart says "eat my shorts" in defiance of conventionality. I boldly say ongapatchka ("a little too much") about mass torts. At least most of them. L’chaim!
