The other day, I was walking down the road when I was waylaid by two longtime readers, Chris Lemens and A. Wright Burke. They stuck a hood over my head and hauled me behind the bicycle sheds. They then proceeded to thrash me. I think Chris wielded a shillelagh, whereas A. Wright Burke, despite his higher-education trappings (M. Phil. and all), preferred a round-bodied sap. All the while, Chris berated me for my clumsy indemnification language, and A. Wright Burke made it clear that he would inflict on me a force majeure event that I’d remember.
But this raises an old question: If I’m so obviously fallible, what kind of a sorry excuse for an expert am I?
That’s something I explored last year in this post in connection with my analysis of a kind of ambiguity. And my response this time around is essentially the same.
Deal provisions don’t spring, fully formed and immaculate, from anyone’s brain. Writing is different from editing: every writer, no matter how accomplished, would benefit from an editor, because in the act of writing you lose the perspective required of an editor. And that’s particularly the case when you’re dealing with contract prose. So I gratefully accept the licks administered by my readers.
Indeed, perhaps what qualifies me for my self-appointed task is that I have sufficient semantic acuity, and sufficient zeal, to take a crack at different provisions, digest the critiques offered, and come up with something better, and do so repeatedly.
Thank you sir, may I have another!