Dear Ann Landers,
ast night we were in a small cafe, and a loud drunk in the next booth kept hogging the jukebox and playing the same record over and over. When I asked him to knock it off, he said he liked the record and planned to play it at least a dozen times more. I told him my girl hates the record and it was giving her a headache. He called her a mopey, bowlegged broad, so I let him have it right in the kisser. The owner of the restaurant threw us out. Now my girl says she wants nothing to do with a roughneck who fights in public.- Frank

Dear Frank,
Consider yourself lucky you didn't get your profile changed. Some guys act drunk but they fight sober. You should have left the place if you didn't like the music. Promise to use your head instead of your dukes in the future, and I will ask your girl to give you another chance. OK? OK. Dear Ann: I just read the letter signed Frank, and your advice was lousy. It is a gentleman's place to protect his wife or his girl. When that drunk called Frank's girl friend a mopey, bowlegged broad, he had every right to belt him in the kisser. Your suggestion that Frank was a roughneck and that he and his girl should have left the restaurant was strictly for the birds. Why don't you ask your husband what he would have done if somebody called you a mopey, bowlegged broad? -More Than Frank Dear More: I asked my husband, and he said he hasn't hit a guy since he was in the sixth grade, and he is in no shape to start taking on drunks in restaurants. Any more questions? NINE DOLLAR$ AND $EN$E Money is not necessarily the root of all evil. In fact, people who have been both rich and poor insist that rich is better. One might assume that a column such as mine would attract heavy mail from readers in financial trouble, but such is not the case. Although I receive a great many letters about money, surprisingly few people complain about not having enough. At least half the money problems I hear about come from readers who have lent money to a friend or a relative and can't seem to get it back. The pattern is fascinating because it defies all laws of logic. Here is a typical situation: An individual (or a couple) is faced with an emergency. A mortgage comes due-illness in the family-someone needs plane fare to go to his mother's funeral. The man in the spot asks a buddy to come to the rescue. The favor is granted and the money is handed over- on good faith alone-nothing in writing. The grateful friend has promised to repay the money "as soon as possible." There are handshakes all around, and sometimes tears of gratitude. The atmosphere is one of congeniality and fine fellowship. The grateful friend is relieved and jubilant. The benevolent buddy is delighted he could "help out." Weeks pass. Then months. No effort is made to repay the loan. Benevolent Buddy notices that Grateful Friend seems to be avoiding him. After a few gentle and unsuccessful attempts to collect, it becomes obvious that the relationship isn't what it used to be. After several months, Grateful Friend and Benevo-lent Buddy are barely speaking. When the victim writes to Ann Landers, he puts it this way: "My reward for being bighearted and trusting the guy is a broken friendship and a hole in my bank account." He signs his letter, "Took Schnook." Do I subscribe to Shakespeare's advice, "Neither a bor-rower nor a lender be-"? No. I do not regard this as a viable philosophy. Not all people are deadbeats. To assume such a cynical attitude is to take a markdown on the whole human race. But, more important, a life that precludes helping others is sterile, selfish, and meaningless. The solution, then, is to lend a helping hand, but on a businesslike basis. Something in writing can be very useful when memories fail and the warmth of gratitude begins to cool. The notion that most wives are irresponsible and slightly addlebrained when it comes to handling money is a myth. My mail indicates that in a great many instances the budget is shot because the husband is the fiscal idiot. Occasionally, I will receive a letter from a husband who writes, "My wife is trying to put us in the poorhouse. She buys everything she sees." But the letters from frantic wives whose husbands are wildly extravagant outnumber the boys' 50 to 1. For example, "Joe went out and bought another motorcycle. We still owe on the doctor bill from his last bike accident. Last year he spent $350 on fishing equipment and $700 on a boat." Writing this column has taught me something about the role money plays in the lives of men and women. While a scarcity of money can be a serious hardship, it does not cause misery and heartache so long as there are compensating balances. Millions of men and women struggle along, making do, doing without, stretching the paycheck, and scratching as best they can to make ends meet. They sometimes complain, but they do not break down. Some human element, a good wife or husband, children who need and love them, keeps these people from cracking up. On the other hand I hear from hundreds of women who have beautiful homes, elegant wardrobes, and unlimited finan-cial resources, but they are depressed and rudderless. They can find no reason to go on living. Money has provided them with comfort and luxury, and life is easy. And perhaps this is where the trouble lies. For many, life is too easy. People need to be needed. When there is nothing to strive for, no goals, no challenges, the zest for living is gone.