WHEN LEFT BECOMES RIGHT, AND RIGHT BECOMES WRONG.

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A dear lawyer often tells me that I am the mob. I think like one, that is. To my considerable chagrin, I defy, I protest... Almost as a rule now, we end when I begin to chant an undecipherable mumble-jumble of uncouth expletives. My dear lawyer beams. He wins his case. And I, am the case in point. All my unruly behavior corroborates, adds to the prima facie evidencE...that I AM the Mob. "Nothing can help my case, my lord." It's a one-act play. We re-enact it after frequent, if not regular, intervals. I recall...the first time it happened, we sat under the Bodhi tree. No wonder it was a moment of epiphany. The lawyer was only enrolled to be a lawyer, then. And I was, even then, a mob. At times of truce, my dear lawyer discusses his winning strategies. "It's....