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abuse, they were above reprisal by any person. Period. However, Blake reasoned that while individuals might not be able to sue, federal powers may not infringe on the rights of states to enact fines for behaviors that adversely affect the welfare of their citizens. It is in a state's interest to protect its citizenry. Actually, what he proposed, in camera, was, "Fine the bastards!" That was artfully translated, by those who knew how, into the language of states rights. This was to be the preliminary step in a landmark case. But what would Gwen tell tomorrow's patients who had so much emotional energy vested in their long awaited appointments? Coming so far? Yet, there was no easy way out of this screw up, he was assured to the rhythm her ceaselessly wagging finger. "Maaaaaaaaaaak! Pleeeeeeeeeeese! Call back!" The phone didn't ring more than a click before Blake was pleading into the receiver. "Mac! Thank God. You're the only one who can pull this off," was his hello. Obviously something bawdy was returned, as Blake flushed and then reacted, "Chew on a bone wild man! Here's a chance for big Brownie points! I'll owe ya." Anybody in the room could hear that protracted distant groan of submission, a submissive genie from the phone. There were repeated kissy kissy thank you's intertwining and staving off the curious what is it's and what're you dragging me into's. Milton Blake, MD was born Milton Cummings Blake. With a stuffy name like that, he either had to be a street fighter, a bull shit artist, or top dog of something intellectual. So declared Dr. Osten who then diagnosed that Blake was - an "injustice killing street fighter bull shit wizard professor of the enigmatic." Macaluso thought that to be too harsh. Miltie was just doing too much, "He doesn't have enough hands for all his brains." Now he needed a hand. Here was the deal.