Excerpt: Hell in a Handbasket

``You think I'm stupid enough to actually walk in the courtroom with those
sharks? I'm not going.''

``That'll only make it worse. They'd win by default.''

``So you think I gotta go?''

``Yeah, unless you're willing to settle with them out of court.''

``Settle? They ain't getting shit from me.''

``Then you'll have to go to court and argue your side of the story. Do you
have any proof that you bought the stuff? Receipts, maybe?''

``No.''

``Then as your legal council, I suggest that you settle with them. With a
little luck, you may get to keep some of the money.''

``A lot of help you are.''

``Again we're in agreement. Anything else I can do for you?''

``No, I don't want to keep you from your snooty college. Wouldn't know a
good day's work if it...'' blah, blah, blah.

That's another thing. They all wanted their kids to go to university and
make something of themselves, but they'd be damned if they would ever
actually respect their subsequent profession. I guess we were supposed to
just make gobs of money and continue to be respectful, regardless of their
behavior.

I realize that I'm being quite harsh with the boomer generation. Hell,
exchange them with any other group of people under the same circumstances
and chances are that things will have turned out pretty much the same. But,
like them, I too am mostly a product of my upbringing... and I say screw
them.

``OK, bye then.'' Click.