It’s the holiday season, and if your house is anything like ours, things are getting a little hectic. The latkes are burning on the stove, the dog ate a sprig of mistletoe and now someone needs to drive it to the expensive vet that’s open on weekends and holidays, and…err…well, we can’t identify a single piece of Kwanzaa paraphernalia to build a joke around. Sorry.

Anyhow, we figure that you’re probably so busy these days — what with all that last-minute holiday shopping (still not too late to get us that ShoeDini we wanted!), dealing with visiting in-laws, and covering for all of your co-workers while they’re on vacation (not that we’re bitter) — you haven’t taken any time to treat yourself. Well, that’s why you have us.

We don’t want to give away what we’re giving you for Christmahanukwanzakah (it’s ecumenical), but we thought you deserved a little early holiday joy — in the form of what might be the greatest piece of legal correspondence in history (with special thanks to the rabid self-flagellating masochists Cleveland sports fans at ’64 and Counting)…

Question #1. It’s the fall of 1974, and you’re a young lawyer making your way through the rough-and-tumble world of the Cleveland, OH legal industry. You grab your Browns season tickets and head to the stadium, looking to unwind. Sure, the team is in the midst of a dismal 4-10 season, but — being blissfully unaware of the decades of heartache and futility ahead of you — you’re optimistic for the future. You try to unwind, but there are all these hooligans around you folding up their game programs into paper planes and tossing them about! Thoseanimals! What do you do to restore the safety and calm of your stadium?

Apparently, if you’re a lawyer named Dale O. Cox, working for the Akron, OH firm of Roetzel & Andress, you send a strongly-worded letter vaguely threatening legal action against the Cleveland Browns if the team doesn’t keep those airplane-throwing ruffians in line (click the image to enlarge):

Question #2. It’s the fall of 1974, and you’re the General Counsel of the Cleveland Browns. The team is in the midst of a dismal 4-10 season, and — being painfully aware of the reality of being from Cleveland — it’s pretty clear to you that the team is never going to turn it around. And here comes a smart-alecky letter from some Akron attorney who’s trying to be cute, or shake you down, or just mess up your day. What do you do to respond?

Apparently, if you’re James N. Bailey, you set you sights on greatness and write your way into the halls of legal Valhalla (click the image to enlarge):

James N. Bailey, if you’re out there, would you please be our nastygram sensei?