Silicon Alley maven Lonnie Muskrat has cultivated quite the reputation amongst his fellow techbrodents, first by parlaying a not-insubstantial windfall from his father’s grub-mining operation into a series of half-baked start-ups, all of which were, eventually, bought out by (and/or forcibly merged with) their far more successful competitors. He then used those gratis cash-outs to clamber atop a somewhat—if arguably less than—respectable empire of reusable bottle rockets, high-end slot cars, taxpayer-funded ratholes to nowhere, animal experimentation, general-issue hokum, VC hoodwinkery, and a never-ending doomscroll of failed marriages, missed pup support payments, and the most cringeworthy of “very online” shenanigans.
And so, flush with unearned cash and bolstered by fawning, almost cult-like (social) media attention, Lonnie crowned himself Meme Lord Eternal and blazed his way into a court-enforced contractural purchase of what could, on a good day, best be described as a virtual dumpster fire of nonsense and vitriol. Concomitant to this was a series of gobsmacking stock sales to help finance said forced purchase and to service the hefty debt associated therewith—all told, a veritable pied piper’s jig set to the tune of several billions of monies (much of it belonging to flop-sweating creditors and irate investment partners) effectively sacrificed upon the altar of Lonnie’s own vanity. Call it a Tuesday.
The ensuing fracas has been sub-optimal for all parties concerned. Hemorrhaging capital, human resources, and goodwill at a record-setting pace, Lonnie’s frantic squeaking and itchy tweeter-fingers have dug his hole even deeper, and his patch-and-motley attempts to silence his virtual critics and extract even some semblance of a profit from the aforementioned trash pyre have only served to further demoralize his remaining (and understandably harried) employees and rouse the interests of relevant regulatory agencies and the looming threat of debilitatingly hefty fines besides.
It has been a time.
Flashing forward to the present panel, in-house counsel having pulled up stakes in a hurry, Lonnie thought he could cajole a bear into coming aboard with the promise of a sizeable retainer, albeit one paid in ownership shares of Lonnie’s sundry extant boondoggles. A bit of Messluh, a side of SporkY, perhaps a soupçon of Dullards Incorporated—the usual grab-bag of stonks.
Unfortunately for Lonnie, unlike certain musky parties, Bear Lawyer knows a bad deal when he smells it.
Hard pass; into the trash you go.
Bear Lawyer, LLC 