Nonplussed, I shrug. We lawyers are supposed to play the role of verbal hit men in our society. When the rules, in their quirkiness, forbid this part of licensed character assassins to us, it frustrates the hell out of Americans. Dan, who, after a couple of drinks, enjoys woolgathering on these matters, claims that TV violence, which includes pro sports like hockey, football, and basketball, provide surrogate physical expressions of our hostile national character, and attorneys are merely the intellectual equivalent of a generalized aggression.

Thinking of Dan’s boozy expression when he pontificates on these subjects, I suspect he accords the profession a little too much dignity.

Rocket scientists, I think, trudging down the hall to the reception area to make sure Mr. Longley isn’t harassing Julia, he and I ain’t.

“What did you say to that man?” Julia says indignantly.

“He was furious when he came by here.”

I nod glumly.

“That there’s not a right for every wrong.”

“He was so beautiful!” Julia wails.

“Most of the people who come in here don’t look any better than you and Dan. And you run him off in ten minutes. How can you make a living this way?”

I’m a lot better looking than Dan. I glance down at my stomach. At 5’ll” I am battling a paunch, but Dan is obese. Gray as a fox, Dan, his hair thinning, looks older, too.

“If you want to send him a bill,” I say more snidely than Julia deserves, “be my guest.” Hell, I would have done his divorce, but he didn’t give me a chance.

Five minutes later I tell Julia I’m headed to Bear Creek and will see her Monday. She asks, “You’re not going to get any lunch?”

I tell her I’ll stop at the Mcdonald’s in Brinkley, about an hour from now. She replies, “Get the salad bar, or you’ll never lose that gut