“I’m feeling so blue” the singer crooned. That’s better than looking blue, unless you’re a member of the group that utilizes body paint to accentuate the color associated with dour emotions. It’s all about the presentation. If you present well the audience will accept; regardless of the content of the message. I think that’s a stretch; but that’s just me.
Think of sentence construction. Look at the building blocks. Can you find the hidden meaning in each word? I dissect speech to determine the speaker’s meaning. Is s/he making a point so subtly that a touch by a feather would feel like a slap to the face in comparison? The answer is there; it’s a matter of listening. I know how difficult that is. We barely have the time or inclination to focus, especially when we have so many distractions. Funny how distractions such as smart phones and their surfeit of applications shone a bright light on psychological / physiological deficiencies like ADHD and the alphabet soup of diagnoses festooned about the psychiatric community.
Next time you watch a commercial, listen closely. I challenge you to sit still long enough to surprise yourself with laser focus. Put the phone on mute; put down the puzzle book; close the computer. Block out everything but the noise from the television. Lest I forget you will need to sit closer to the television in order to read the fine print that flashes usually at the bottom of the screen – and probably only long enough to recognize it’s there before it disappears. The fine print, written by the litigation conscious, is meant to clarify the message. Results not typical; must be combined with diet and exercise; lash enhancements added to accentuate the effect of mascara; etc. In most cases you will see that that woman-child professing the age defying properties of the face cream is really a professional actress. She is probably ten or more years younger than the audience to which the advertiser is appealing.
As I contemplated the misleading advertisement, silence abandoned me. I railed long and loud about the misrepresentations. I was enjoying the company of a diverse group of friends. Among them were most walks of life including lawyers. Some say lawyers don’t walk, they slither. I’m not passing judgment, just passing along what I’ve heard. The lawyers were the first to offer rebuttal.
“You can’t expect the advertiser to put up a real world amateur; the product would never sell.” Micah said. He was a trial lawyer. I love Micah to death; he’s been a willing confidant and has helped me burrow from beneath my share of legal morass. Micah was short and dumpy looking. His clothes looked like he slept in them. His hair looked like bed head. His chubby face framed beady brown eyes shaded by bushy eye brows. He said the look was his way of throwing off opposing counsel.
“This is a product of the world in which we live. People want gratification; yesterday if possible.” Lydia said. She was a personal injury lawyer. Lydia knew all about instant gratification; her clients had high expectations and an overactive sense of righteousness.
“So what you’re saying is that lying is acceptable?” I asked.
“That’s not lying.” Micah said.
“That’s right, it’s not.” Lydia added. I smiled. Lydia was beautiful; her full figure tall and sensual. We dated twice before she realized I was two inches too short and too skinny. Her shoulder length black hair danced as her head moved to enable her to address the entire room. She epitomized confidence. She could absorb you with her blue gray eyes. When she smiled light twinkled off her complexion. The discussion was heating up and the lawyers were aligning. The other four people in the room watched as we knocked the discussion ball back and forth over the net of public apathy.
“It sounds like you two advocate buyer beware.”
“Absolutely.” They responded. I wanted to shout ‘personal jinx’ but thought better of it.
“Listen to you two. You advocate for the seller yet you represent the buyer against the seller.” I shook my head. The others, the non-combatants, smiled with me. I straightened up, topping out at just under five feet ten and tried to look miffed; my brown eyes stared out from deep set eyes. Salt and pepper hair brush cut topped my bony head.
“That’s the American way. We don’t find fault with the seller who is mildly off center with the message. We find fault with the seller who misleads.” Micah said. I double hitched; prepared to respond then stopped short.
“Micah’s right. There’s a fine line and we catch the seller who crosses it.” Lydia said.
“Yeah but you keep moving the line. You move it to where it’s convenient for you and your client. You do it to make your case.” George finally interjected. He stared at the shiny penny loafer at the end of a crossed leg that moved in rhythm with his words. His jaw tightened. As he spoke the vein above his right temple pulsed. His eyes burned with residual displeasure. George was a GQ wannabe with his laundered and pressed button down shirt and creased trousers (you could cut a medium-well steak with that crease). George’s company was sued for false advertising. The plaintiff had used the product inappropriately and then sued because there was no warning on the label for his method of use. The plaintiff was awarded a stiff sum. George’s company lost market share. After three years they are finally recovering.
“You guys are amazing. You empower the stupid; the opportunists; the leeches; the hangers on.” I said as I rose, staring at the lawyers who looked like they were going to slither away. Turning I stormed out of the room. I marched into the master bedroom to use the master bath. At that point I needed to get far away from the discussion. My temperature was rising and my reasoning was falling.
Five minutes later I walked slowly out of the bedroom and back to the den. The group was kicking about the last incredible catch just inside the end zone. I stood at the back of the room, breathing slowly. When the game cut to a commercial I focused. It was another of those true but untrue messages. Micah and Lydia looked at me and smiled. Micah hiked a thumb towards the television.
“There’s a law suit buried in that commercial. It’s just a matter of time before one of us sinks our teeth into the poor bastards.” Micah said. Lydia shook her head.
“I could make the case in minutes.” Lydia said; her voice playful. “They’ll settle because a public suit would kill them.” She continued. George lunged at Lydia, hands gripping her throat.
“You suck you know that!” George squealed as he choked my guest. I looked on passively. This was more fun than the game. The others scrambled. Two attempted to subdue George, the others backed away. George looked like a few nuts and bolts had shaken loose.
“You’re not going to sue anybody, do you hear me?” He continued to punish my ex-girlfriend. When it appeared she might expire I acted. Extracting the .45 from my waistband I pressed it against George’s neck.
“Let her go, now!” I spoke in a firm voice. George’s grip loosened. He looked at me with puppy dog eyes. “So help me I’ll end your pain right now.” I pushed the barrel into his flesh forming a red pucker. George pulled himself back, falling hard into the empty space on the sofa. Bringing his hands to his face he cried. Micah helped Lydia. She recovered slowly before punching him dead in the face.
“You ass, you watched while that maniac choked me!” She screamed. Micah covered his wounded eye. He’d have raccoon eye in a couple of hours.
“This is assault and battery. I’ll have you arrested.” Micah threatened. Before I could react Lydia ripped the gun from my hand and pointed it at Micah.
“You think so? Try filing suit from your grave you puny bastard.” Lydia said just before she pulled the trigger. Micah’s eyes opened wide enough to swallow the room. He stopped breathing as he gripped his chest. The hammer dropped; a single click. There were no bullets. I would never present a loaded gun. We looked at Micah. His face reddened as his fingers clawed at his chest. He tried to speak; his lips forming words without sound.
“I think he’s having a heart attack.” George said calmly. “Let him die. Maybe it will teach the lawyers a lesson. You’re all a bunch of whores; what’s one dead one.” Lydia glared at George before rising. She slapped George hard; His pale face throbbing red; his eyes burning impotent frustration. He stood; shoulders slumped and exited. He couldn’t stay. I watched George leave as I summoned emergency assistance.
Micah’s heart stopped long enough to savage his brain from lack of oxygen. A vegetative state was brought to the court’s attention as Lydia filed a civil suit against me for making a deadly weapon available. She successfully argued that duress left her incapable of discerning appropriate action and I was reticent to prevent her from taking the weapon. She argued it was my fiduciary duty to my guests. Failing that, I should be found guilty. I wondered if the wrong lawyer was silenced.
