We got a couple of 'em on here

MRice62377 · Posted: Sun Sep 02, 2007 12:23 pm Post subject: We got a couple of 'em on here

A very successful lawyer parked his brand-new Lexus in front of his
>office, ready to show it off to his colleagues. As he got out, a
>truck passed too close and completely tore off the door on the
>driver's side. The lawyer immediately grabbed his cell phone, dialed
>911, and within minutes a policeman pulled up.
>
>Before the officer had a chance to ask any questions, the lawyer
>started screaming hysterically. His Lexus, which he had just picked
>up the day before, was now completely ruined and would never be the
>same,
>no matter what the body shop did to it.
>
>When the lawyer finally wound down from his ranting and raving, the
>officer shook his head in disgust and disbelief. "I can't believe
>how materialistic you lawyers are," he said. "You are so focused on
>your possessions that you don't notice anything else."
>
>"How can you say such a thing?" asked the lawyer.
>
>The cop replied, "Don't you know that your left arm is missing from
>the elbow down? It must have been torn off when the truck hit you."
>
>"My God!" screamed the lawyer. "Where's my Rolex?"
>
_________________
Mike@jayhawkroofing.com

Heed these words, all who enter here:
Beware of the Phog. Rock Chalk!!!

verylowpriority · Posted: Sun Sep 02, 2007 7:04 pm Post subject:

What's brown and looks good on a lawyer?
A Doberman.

What have you got if you've got 100 lawyers buried up to their necks in sand?
Not enough sand.

What's a cryin' shame?
A busload of lawyers going off a cliff, with two empty seats.

What's the difference between a catfish and a lawyer?
One's a scum-sucking bottom feeder, and the other is a fish.
_________________
NHrow7 (1996-2006)

verylowpriority · Posted: Sun Sep 02, 2007 7:13 pm Post subject:

Mike, your lawyer/Lexus/Rolex joke reminded me of a true story that I wrote an article about some years ago for the Texas State Trooper Magazine.

The article was called "On Defensive Driving"

I moved from New York City to Dallas in March of 1987, and I immediately came to love many things about the State of Texas. Among the first was that nobody was in a hurry. I had spent most of my adult life in a hurry. In New York City, everyone is in a hurry, all the time. Everything is planned and scheduled down to the minute. In my first days in Dallas, on the other hand, I remember getting frustrated standing on a long, slow-moving checkout line in the supermarket, when I suddenly had an epiphany. I realized I wasn’t in a hurry, and neither were any of these other folks on this line who were all waiting so patiently and cheerfully to pay for their groceries. They’d get there when they got there. I stopped drumming my fingers and tapping my toe. I uncrossed my arms. I took in a deep breath. Life was good.

That experience in that checkout line added years to my life. It’s kinda nice not being in a hurry all day, every day.

Over this past Memorial Day weekend, I had an old friend visiting from back east. He rented a snazzy convertible for the weekend and we planned to take a drive in the country. The weather was perfect. After a terrific lunch and some window-shopping in Fredericksburg it was time to hop back in the car to tour some more of the Hill Country. We got into the car and eased out of our parking space. We knew that from our location and heading we’d be taking a right turn to drive up to Llano, but we weren’t sure which street to turn on. Tom decided to turn left to go to Main Street, where we knew there would be a sign indicating the correct road to Llano. He stopped at the four-way stop sign, signaled his left turn – and then he realized we were stopped at the very intersection where that right turn would take us straight to Llano.

So from a standing stop, with his left turn signal on, Tom began a right turn. At that very moment, I noticed (and Tom did not notice) that someone behind us who planned to turn right, and who thought we were turning left, had unexpectedly sneaked up on our right side at the stop sign. “Tom! Whoa! STOP!”

Too late – crunch.

Our rented convertible was scratched up a little but not too much. It would be repaired good-as-new with paint, putty and a belt sander. The other car was a late-model Mercedes-Benz sedan occupied by – of all things – a Houston lawyer and his wife. (Warning to the good people of Fredericksburg: on holiday weekends your beautiful little town is apparently crawling with lawyers.) He had damage to his driver’s side door and front quarter-panel. That was gonna cost some money.

This was Tom’s fault – right? After all, he signaled left and turned right and hit the other guy. The Fredericksburg police officer didn’t give him a citation, but Tom was still feeling pretty low about crunching two expensive cars he didn’t own. “But wait a minute,” I said to Tom, after we’d exchanged information and gone on our way. That street had one lane of traffic in each direction with a yellow line between them. There was additional pavement on both sides for parked vehicles, but only one actual lane of traffic. That guy wasn’t supposed to be where he was when Tom hit him. He was supposed to remain behind us.

This made Tom feel a lot better and allowed him to enjoy the rest of our Sunday drive in our scratched-up rented car. Tom flew home. A few days later I heard some distant thunder, and don’t you know it, Tom called me from the east coast just moments later to tell me he’d just gotten a phone call from our Houston lawyer friend, who was throwing an absolute hissy-fit (that must have been the thunder I heard) because Tom’s insurance company told him to fix his own car at his own expense.

I started laughing uncontrollably at this poor fool, this uptight big-city lawyer disguised in a Hawaiian shirt and sandals. I don’t mean it to sound like he was a bad guy or anything. He was fine. But here he was on a Sunday drive with his wife, in his comfortable fancy car, in the beautiful Texas Hill Country, and the guy is in a hurry! Too much of a hurry to just sit behind Tom and me for the three or four seconds it was going to take for Tom to make up his mind and for our car to turn left or right, or proceed through the intersection.

Seventeen years after my first days living in Texas, I find that a lot of people around here are in a hurry, and I don’t like it. I think it needs to stop. It’s very un-Texan.

Slow down, my friends. Take your time. Experience the joy of not being in a hurry in the checkout line, or on a Sunday drive in Fredericksburg. It’s safer. It’s healthier. It’s a better way of life than scores of millions of Americans know. And you won’t blow out your aorta dealing with those “good hands people.”
_________________
NHrow7 (1996-2006)