by Richard W. Millar, Jr.

I scribe this in the midst of the coronavirus “shut down,” “lockdown,” “quarantine,” or the wonderfully euphemistic “sheltering in place.” So many ways to describe home confinement! Even if they let us out, there is no place to go. A trip to the market is an outing—achieving a previously unheard-of significance.

Perspective, it seems, is in short supply.

When I was very young, Japan bombed Pearl Harbor and, according to the powers that be, was threatening Pasadena. We had to install blackout curtains to ensure no light streamed from our windows at night to guide the Japanese bombers. Everything was rationed. My rubber toys were donated for wartime tires. Fear created the internment camps, such as Manzanar.

Then came the Atomic Age. People built bomb shelters. At school, we had constant air raid drills where we would hide under our desks as if they could possibly protect us. In retrospect, the drills were completely useless and unnecessarily terrifying.

To keep our sanity, we need to think of the important things in life.

Like unicorns.

I must confess that unicorns were not on the front burner of my mind, so to speak, but that just reflects how out of touch I am.

Unicorns have been around since antiquity, which is a remarkably long time for something that does not exist. More recently, certain Silicon Valley startups have been referred to as unicorns reflecting, perhaps, the fantasies that spawned them.

But in the art world, they are in danger.

Art Ask Agency sued so many people there was not room for them in the caption in federal court in Illinois to stop internet sales of fantasy art which allegedly infringed on trademarks and copyrights owned by someone named Anne Stokes, a British artist. The gist is that the defendants were peddling knockoffs of artworks depicting unicorns. In other words, fake replicas of pictures of fake animals.

The artworks are described as “a puzzle of an elf-like creature embracing the head of a unicorn on a beach; a hand purse with a large purple heart, filled with interlocking heads of two amorous-looking unicorns;” and “phone cases featuring elves and unicorns, and a unicorn running beneath a castle lit by a full moon.”

I don’t know much about the market for fake unicorn pictures, but according to the Art Ask Agency, this was an all-fired emergency and it sought ex parte relief for an immediate restraining order.

This was during the coronavirus lockdown or, as the district court described it, while “the world is in the midst of a global pandemic.”

Noting that the president had declared a national emergency, the Governor of Illinois had issued a statewide emergency, the district court had issued In re: Coronavirus Covid-19 Public Emergency and bars, restaurants, and schools were closed, the court said “it was a bad time to hold a hearing on the motion,” and moved the hearing date a few weeks to protect the community, including the counsel and the court’s staff.

Well, an emergency is an emergency, and that order did not sit well with the victims of Unicornus Replicatus, so they moved for reconsideration.

Or, as the court put it: “But plaintiff argues that it will suffer an ‘irreparable injury’ if the court does not hold a hearing this week and immediately put a stop to the infringing unicorns and the knock-off elves.”

Observing that the clerk’s office was operating with “limited staff” and “resources are stretched as time is at a premium,” the court stated: “If there’s ever a time when emergency motions should be limited to genuine emergencies, now’s the time.”

Then, further:

“[t]hirty minutes ago, this Court learned that Plaintiff filed yet another emergency motion [which they] teed up in front of the designated emergency judge and thus consumed the attention of the Chief Judge. The filing calls to mind the sage words of Elihu Root: ‘About half the practice of a decent lawyer is telling would-be clients that they are damned fools and should stop.’”

“The world is facing a real emergency. Plaintiff is not. The motion to reconsider . . . is denied.”

It would surprise me if plaintiff is damaged by an immediate run-up of sales of fake unicorn pictures, but then again, I was wrong about toilet paper.

Richard W. Millar, Jr. is Of Counsel with the firm of Friedman Stroffe & Gerard in Irvine. He can be reached at rmillar@fsglawyers.com.