A doctor and a lawyer were attending a cocktail party. The doctor was approached by a gentleman who rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, showed him a spot on his arm, and asked the physician what he should do about it. The doctor, clearly perturbed, mumbled some generic medical advice. He then turned to the attorney and asked, "How do you handle that situation, when you are asked for advice at a social function?"
The attorney smiled. "Send him a bill. He'll get the point".
The next morning, the doctor sent the man a bill for $50. That afternoon, the doctor received a bill from the attorney for $100.
A barber gave a haircut to the new Baptist minister in town. Upon the conclusion of the appointment, the minister tried to pay. The barber would have none of it, and refused to accept the money: "You do God's work". The next day, the barber found a box of a dozen Bibles waiting for him at the door.
The barber gave a haircut to a new police officer. Upon conclusion of the appointment, the gendarme tried to pay. Again, the barber would have none of it, and stated: "You protect the people". The next day, the barber found a dozen donuts waiting for him at the door.
The barber gave a haircut to a newly-minted attorney. Upon conclusion of the appointment, the attorney attempted to pay. The barber refused, stating: "You serve the justice system". The next day, the barber found a dozen more attorneys waiting for him at the door.
A famous Chicago trial attorney decided, as a means of relaxation, to take up the sport of game bird hunting. In pursuit of this hobby, he made a trip to rural Indiana. Walking along a fence row, he kicked up a pheasant, took aim, and inflicted a fatal wound upon the bird. The bird's trajectory and momentum took it over the fence. The lifeless fowl landed in a field on the other side of the fence.
As the attorney scaled the fence to retrieve his prey, an old rusty pickup truck approached him along the side of the field and stopped. An old farmer disembarked from the truck and walked up to the attorney.
"Whatcha doin' in my field?" inquired the farmer.
Amused by the Mayberry-ness of the scene, the attorney replied haughtily "I have come to retrieve my bird that I shot. Now, sir, if you will please excuse me."
The farmer continued, "Now hold on just a minute. That bird is on my land. That is my bird."
The attorney smirked. "Look, old man, I am an attorney. I have practiced for years and have tried many cases involving land disputes. I am well-known for the work that I do, and have lost more money in the cushions of my couch than you have made in your lifetime. The common law is clear - well back to English law - that the right to prey killed in a hunt originates with the land where the hunt began. I shot this bird over there. The fact that it fell here is of no consequence. Now - again - if you will please excuse me."
Undeterred, the farmer continued to protest, "I don't know much about the common law, and I don't care much about how they do things in England. Around here, we have one way to settle disputes such as this. We'll take turns taking shots at each other. The last one standing gets the bird."
The attorney was annoyed by this time. He sized up the little old farmer in his overalls. The attorney was half his age and twice his size. "Fine. I'll even let you go first," he said to the farmer.
The farmer took a couple steps back and planted his cowboy boots in the attorney's groin. The attorney dropped to the ground, coughed, rolled around and moaned for several minutes. Finally, the attorney pulled himself back to his feet, composed himself, and stood up straight.
"Alright old man," he wheezed. "Now it's my turn."
The farmer turned and headed for his truck. "Ah, never mind. You can keep the bird."
