One of my favorite duck-hunting buddies is a hero of sorts: He went duck hunting on his honeymoon; he consistently finds good hunting among the nation's most crowded public areas; and he married an attractive, young attorney. Now, if you enjoy an expensive hobby like waterfowling and have the opportunity to marry one of mankind's few likable attorneys, by all means go for it, but don't kid yourself that the arrangement is foolproof. She will be friends with other young attorneys—she may even invite them into your home—and the only thing worse than lawyers are young lawyers. They think they're smarter than you (let's face it, they probably are), and they're filled with doe-eyed idealism and the desire to make a difference in the world. It's sickening. So it was with no small amount of trepidation that I accepted an invitation to attend my buddy's Christmas party. As I feared, the place was crawling with lady-lawyers. I did my best to avoid eye contact (they can see into your soul, you know) and carry my two carefully prepared plates of bluebills to the grill. I'd arranged a simple, classic appetizer that I like to call jalapeno quackers: bacon-wrapped duck with a slice of jalapeno and sharp cheddar in the middle. I threw the grill on high heat, grilled the first plate and carried it inside. By the time I returned with the second plate, the lawyers had devoured every morsel from the initial offering. "My gosh," an attorney exclaimed, "What kind of beef was that?" "You just ate a wild duck," I said. "Fresh from the Potomac." To their credit, the attorneys eagerly began polishing off the second plate as well, and for the first time all evening, they were silent.
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