Timing is everything in life! When you assist a criminal in breaking the law before the criminal is arrested, you are known as an accomplice. If you assist a criminal in breaking the law after the criminal is arrested, you are known as a defense attorney.
In both instances you are part of a team: the criminal team of crooks. In the former case you are performing an illegal act and in the latter you are doing your job in a praiseworthy occupation.
Perhaps this is one reason why lawyers have such a bad reputation. They can argue from both sides of their mouth. The one thing you can be sure about lawyers is the extreme care they take to keep opprobrious conduct private and far from public view.
I once witnessed an insightful incident that confirmed their private nature. There was a lawyer standing in a long queue at a ticketing queue for a popular movie. Suddenly, he felt a pair of hands kneading his shoulders, back, and neck. This lawyer turned around and shouted, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The guy giving him the massage explained, “I’m a chiropractor, and I’m just keeping in practice while I’m waiting in line.” The angry lawyer shot back, “Well, I’m a lawyer, but you don’t see me screwing the guy in front of me, do you?”
It was rumoured that once upon a time God decided to take the devil to court and settle their differences once and for all. However, God made the mistake of holding court in heaven and when Satan heard this, he laughed and said, “And where do you think you’re going to find a lawyer?”
God was shocked by this revelation. He went to see St Peter at the Pearly Gate and asked him why he didn’t allow any lawyers in. St. Peter replied, “Well, when I added up all the hours for which lawyers billed their clients, by my calculation every single one of them is at least 200 years old!”
On hearing that God got pissed with St. Peter and admonished him for discriminating against aged people. On reflection, God, being of a kindly disposition, felt it must be the body replacement department’s fault with their marked to market pricing for body parts that influenced St. Peter.
You see practically everyone entering heaven insists on receiving new body parts to enjoy in their eternal blissful stay. It doesn’t make much sense to live in heaven but to be physically crippled or disadvantaged. Thus God instituted the policy whereby those who insist on receiving new body parts are allowed to do so but at a price. And to be fair that price is given to them before they are admitted to heaven. From experience there is plenty of unhappiness when they entered heaven and later found the price shocking. The Pearly Gate is a one-way street and heaven is supposed to be a peaceful place. It is bad for business if customers are not happy. The branding may be affected. Those who are not happy with the price they have to pay for new replacement body parts may decline their invitation to enter heaven.
God then stormed into the body parts department and questioned the head angel in charge of it. He asked the head angel whether the rumour is true that lawyers’ brain are extremely expensive and sold at a price that could be described as exorbitant. The head angel told God that actresses like to look good and lawyers like to have a good brain. Both use their brain for screwing except the latter doesn’t do it literally. A jar of actress brain cost S$0.69c. For rocket scientist it is priced at S$10 a jar. But for lawyer it costs the princely sum of S$6.9 million a gram.
God was shocked on hearing the 6.9 million price tag. He scolded the head angel, “This is a ripoff – how come the lawyer brains are so damned expensive?” The angel replied, “Do you know how many lawyers it takes to get an ounce of brains?” Still God wasn’t satisfied with the answer. He exclaimed, “How on earth you came up with a price tag like 6.9 million? Who advised you?”
The angel meekly replied, “A lawyer.”
At this juncture God was thinking to Himself lawyers can’t be that bad. There must be some redeeming features in them. A few days ago he heard the story of a woman who was still a virgin when she remarried for the umpteenth time and finally settled down with a lawyer. God felt this is a good case study of a lawyer with good qualities triumphing over others and so off he went to hear the woman’s story. God asked the woman how come she never consummated her marriages until she married the lawyer.
This is her story. In her own words to God.
My first husband was a salesman. He was always telling me how great it was going to be but when it came down to it his tool malfunctioned.
My second husband was a marketing guy. He wasn’t very good at his job. He didn’t know how to position it.
My third husband was a psychologist. All he ever did was to talk about it and he encouraged me to do the same.
My fourth husband was a gynecologist. He only wanted to look at it.
My fifth husband was a statistician. He brought his work home with him. In the daytime he was always twisting and turning. At home he continued to twist and turn so much I couldn’t hold him steady to have sex.
My sixth husband was an actuary who was extremely secretive about his employer and the nature of his job. The moment he lie on the bed he was so tired he fell into a deep sleep immediately. He always wakes up in the middle of the night screaming, “Impossible! 56-man years! 56-man years! 56-man years!” He was feeling guilty all the time and didn’t want to risk adding to it by having sex since he was brought up to believe sex is unnatural and sinful.
My seventh husband is a hedge fund manager. He was always fiddling with numbers and often had nightmares and often wakes up in the middle of the night screaming, “17%! Nothing less! Nothing less!”. He care about nothing else except his magic number of “17%”.
My eigth husband was the head of the cartography department in the civil service. He was always looking at the map and figuring all sorts of way to redraw the boundaries for the various constituencies. His work was so demanding his boss expected him to think of a good solution even when he was at home. For all intent and purpose I am invisible to him.
My ninth husband was a judge. He was always judging and comparing me with someone else and if I disagree with him he never fail to threaten me by holding me in contempt and putting me away for good, yadda yadda, yadda. He liked to tell me, ” Remember the golden rule! Remember the golden rule!” One day I got so pissed with him telling me this I asked him what the heck is the golden rule? Without hesitation he replied, “He who has the gold makes the rule.” To be honest he was gay and the marriage was really just an alibi to keep his job.
My tenth husband was a member of parliament. He never showed up for work and he never showed up for sex either. He was too busy collecting money from directorships in various companies and starting $2 dollars companies. He suffers from ergophobia and peniaphobia: fear of work and fear of poverty. At times I can’t help thinking he is also ponophobic: fear of overworking or of pain.
My eleventh husband was a tax collector working in Inland Revenue Authority. He only wanted to squeeze me. His squeeze was so powerful it was suffocating. I can’t help feeling he could squeeze blood out of stone if he so desires.
My twelfth husband was a journalist. He suffers from nyctophobia, achluophobia, lygophobia and scotophobia. He has a frenzied fear of darkness and this triggers bad thoughts of bad things happening in the dark. Thus he spends every waking moment whitewashing everything: turning black into white and dark into light. He can’t do it in the dark and I can’t do it in the spotlight. Needless to say he also displayed signs of phronemophobia.
My thirteenth husband was somebody important: a prime minister. He kept persuading me to accept 6.9 position. He was so green he didn’t even know it is called 69. I hate blowing and not having good eyesights didn’t help. It is hard to find a needle in a haystack even in bright daylight. At night, in the dark, there is no way in hell I can find his tiny pecker even with a magnifying glass. I almost developed phallophobia because of him.
My fourteenth husband was a trade unionist. On the first night of our honeymoon he wanted to negotiate a pact before we get to work. I mean doing it. The negotiation took all night and it took the wind out of me as he kept insisting it is for my own good and he is doing me a favour out of sheer kind heartedness, etc., etc., etc. On the second night, he changed tack and wanted a pact where I do all the work and he enjoys all the benefit. It was another all night affair that left me completely drained of energy. On the third night, he suddenly told me he needed to seek approval from his father on the pact he hammered. He wanted his father to scrutinise the pact: he claimed a tripartite arrangement is better and his father being an older and wiser person can give good and better counsel. When I objected to his father being involved in our marriage he got mad and shouted at me, “Please don’t try to teach my father how to fuck. He is an expert in screwing. He has been screwing anything that moves and even some that doesn’t since the day you were born.” On the fourth night, he told me his father insisted on a no-strike clause binding me to be screwed on time and overtime with no additional benefits. It was on the fifth night I drew the line when his father insisted – ostensibly for my own good and the sake of the family’s welfare – I consented to be screwed by outsiders (foreigners to my marriage as far as I am concerned) as and when he or his father deemed it necessary. Just the thought of it made me feel violated. I filed for divorce the next day, and, boy or boy, hell hath no fury like a father scorned. They have been bad mouthing me ever since then. Telling the whole world I am lazy, good for nothing, unproductive, not willing to compete on a level playing field, afraid of a meritocratic world, yadda yadda yadda.
Getting tired of the establishment kind I decided to go the less trodden path and chose a member of the opposition political party for my fifteenth husband. It turned out his former job was as a demolition expert clearing landmines. In his current occupation he continued to have this landmines phobia: he spent all his time avoiding it. He will make a mountain out of a molehill. To him any protruding object is a potential landmine to be avoided. At night, in bed with me, all he saw was two huge landmines to be avoided at all cost. Needless to say a hole is also incontrovertible proof a landmine has exploded there.
After my fifteenth husband and still a virgin I had to do something drastic. I decided once and for all to stack the cards in my favour. So I married a lawyer.
God asked, “But why?”
She answered, “He is a lawyer. This time I know I’m gonna get screwed for sure!”
With that God closed the case on his investigation of lawyers and declared he is satisfied there is no evidence to show that lawyers are any different or worse than other profession. They may have crossed the line on the one occasion when one of them was caught trying to bribe a car park attendant with $2.00. Since this was a minuscule amount and no actual harm was done, except for the intelligence of the attendant being insulted, we should move on.
The world breathes a sigh of relief at that and the sun started shining again.
Apolitical