Jury Doodie
A couple months ago I received a jury summons, which I promptly forgot about. On Tuesday, I realized the call-in date was approaching so I dug up the jury form. It turns out I was supposed to call the court last weekend. Great. I called the automated line expecting to hear there was a warrant out for my arrest but instead it simply told me to check back again the next night after 6:00.
And I promptly forgot about it.
At 3:30 yesterday morning, I remembered and called the line. Naturally, they wanted me this time- at 8:45 am. In case I haven’t made it clear here, I do not do mornings. If I never had to spend another waking moment between the hours of 6-10 am, I would not be the slightest bit disappointed.
I spent the next hour reading over the juror documentation and filling out the form then picked out something nice and comfy to wear for the long day ahead. With a little more than three hours of sleep, I arrived for my first day of jury service.
Over the years, I’ve heard a lot of people complain about jury duty but I’ve never heard anybody describe the excruciating pain known as “juror orientation.” Or maybe it was just worse for me because mine was led by Sweaty Repeater Guy. This guy repeated every nugget of information two or three times. And I’m not saying he reviewed items he’d mentioned earlier in the orientation; He repeated them all in a row. It was kinda like this, “If you’re not assigned to a case today, you’re excused for another year. That means, if you’re not put on a jury, you’re excused and don’t have to come back. So no jury assignment today means no jury duty for at least a year.” I suppose the repetition was necessary for some people since the sweat pools gathered around his gut and the constant patting of his face were quite distracting. Believe it or not, at the end of the orientation, a woman actually asked, “If we’re not placed on a jury today, do we have to come back tomorrow?” It was enough to stir me from my semi-comatose state and say quite audibly, “You gotta be fucking kidding.” She wasn’t.
Sweaty Repeater Guy spent over two hours discussing all the materials we were supposed to have read before we arrived and gave detailed instructions on how to fill out the short form. Apparently there are a lot of jurors who need assistance with such challenging form fields as “name,” “address,” and “signature.” It was so typical of how most businesses operate: Cater to the people who weren’t prepared just to further aggravate me, who was. They should have tucked something toward the end of the pamphlet that said, “Pssst- since you’ve read this far, go ahead and come in an hour later than scheduled. You shouldn’t have to endure the boring lecture with the other slackers.” I promise the next time I’m summoned for jury duty I will be very tardy.
At the end of the orientation, Sweaty Repeater Guy stuck in some sort of juror propaganda video. It featured a bunch of people’s testimonials about their great experiences on juries and closed with the statement that “A lot of jurors even keep in touch after the trial.” I looked around at the room full of people too stupid to get out of jury duty, myself included, and wondered if anybody saw that as a potential perk. I did not. I don’t know why they felt it was necessary to try and sell us on jury duty anyway since we didn’t exactly have a choice. It’s like trying to sell a death row inmate on the idea that lethal injection is much better than the old electric chair. No sales pitch necessary.
We were released early for lunch so I went home and crashed for two hours. After the break, we sat around for another hour and half before the judge came in and said we could go. That was it? The county of Los Angeles couldn’t find one criminal in need of a jury that day?! I was a bit disappointed. I’d been llooking forward to the attorneys’ questions:
“How do you feel about drunk drivers?”
“They should all fry!”
“What about drug dealers?”
“To the chair!”
“Jaywalkers?”
“I’d like to run ‘em down myself.”
Nope, no fun at all. It was just a colossal waste of time for me and 50 other people (possibly 51- Larry King popped his head in and I’m not certain if he was there for jury duty or divorce court). Most people were glad to get out of service but I wanted a little action. The next time I’m summoned, I think I’ll stop by Illegal Alien Depot, offer a few of them some work and deliver them to the courthouse. If the county can’t bring the criminals to me, I’ll bring the criminals to them.
Mesothelioma Huh?
I saw four commercials last night for Mesothelioma as I do just about every time I watch more than 15 minutes of live tv after midnight. I don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that there are so many attorneys hawking ads for Mesothelioma or the fact that I still haven’t got the slightest idea what it is. Is it an ailment like cancer or a substance like asbestos? Or is it just a very big word meaning “tiny pecker?”
The way the lawyers salivate over it, I’m inclined to believe it’s some sort of Vegas affliction and the responsible parties are the smoking, gambling AND drug industries. With little private jets in their eyes, the suits urge me to call but for some reason, they’re very cryptic. If they’d just give some sort of hint to what Mesothelioma is, maybe they’d find a few more victims who want to earn pennies to their class-action dollars.
I know I could have easily done a search for Mesothelioma in the time it took me to write this. But with my luck, in the process of searching, I’d discover I have all the symptoms for something like Maxothelioma, Mesothelioma’s more-scarring-yet-less-profitable big brother. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.
Beverly Hills 9021 Uh Oh
Television producer Aaron Spelling is being sued for sexual harassment by his former nurse. She claims he “placed his hands on her breasts, groin and genital area, exposed himself, solicited oral sex and offered her cash in return for various sex acts.”
That’s just part of the allegations against her 82-year-old former employer, but common sense tells me things didn’t go down the way she claims.
I’ve seen Spelling a couple times. The first was three years ago in Vegas (“My New Year’s W/Rickles and Spelling”) and at the time he looked like he was at death’s door. When I saw him again two years later, he looked like a Jehovah’s Witness at death’s door, refusing to go away until the Grim Reaper let him in. Now he probably looks very much like former death row inmate Charles Ray Allen does today: just a rapidly decomposing prune. The guy wouldn’t even have enough strength to lift the gargantuan rock his wife Candy sports on her hand. The point being I might believe the accuser if she said he’d copped a feel in one naughty spot or another. But there’s no way he possesses the strength and dexterity necessary to get his hands on the melons and the muffin unless she let him. At the very least, she must have done a lousy job rebuffing his advances. If a guy lays his hand on any of my jewels, it’s either going to be followed by a serious smack or some serious smacking. Depends on how hot he is.
As for the allegations he exposed himself, well, she is a nurse. I can’t even count how many times I’ve had comics whip out their shlongs in non-sexual situations. Like it is for nurses, that’s just part of the job for female comics. And so what if he did offer her money for sex? That’s not sexual harassment, although it could be deemed sexual insultment if the mega-millionaire didn’t offer her a tidy sum for a little romp.
Per court papers, the home nurse was first hired to tend to Spelling in November 2004. Shortly thereafter, she claims, Spelling began his lewd behavior, which also allegedly included masturbating in front of her, sticking his tongue in her mouth and telling her “that he had many actresses who would come into his office and perform oral sex on him.”
That last part I believe. There’s no other explanation for the career of that awful blonde actress who played Donna Martin on “90210.” But come on, he stuck his tongue in her mouth? I’ve had scores of overanxious dogs try to do that but none has succeeded. And they’re professionals with nine inch tongues. How wide does someone have to keep her mouth open for Grandpa Spelling to manage that kind of action? I don’t even think the jacking off part is a big deal. She could look away or go to another room- she had about 100 other rooms to choose from for crying out loud.
Given that he created such bed-hopping guilty pleasures as “Melrose Place,” and “Dynasty,” I don’t doubt that he’s a real horndog. And most likely he did make advances toward her but there’s a way for a woman to shoot a guy down and move on. If the behavior continues, start collecting proof, especially when it’s against someone so loaded. I’ve managed to make more than a few bucks over the years from the covert collection of information I later used against employers who fired me (yeah, the plural there is correct- “insubordination” appears quite frequently in my old employee files). But I wouldn’t have been able to retaliate if I hadn’t kept records of situations as they occurred. In this day and age of mini-cameras and tape recorders, it shouldn’t have been too hard for her to document one of the many behaviors she claims occurred. I can guarantee that if she had any actual proof like that, this whole situation would have stayed quieter than George Bush on “Jeopardy.”
Virtual Bullet
I previously explained my idea for Common Sense Law, which I will implement when I’m president. Today I’d like to share with you a plan that I believe will increase revenue while reducing crime and people’s blood pressure at the same time: The Virtual Bullet.
We all have instances when people aggravate us so much we just want to blow their heads off. For whatever reason we don’t- for most it’s because it’s immoral, for some it’s because it’s illegal and for others it’s because their local Wal-Mart has already closed for the evening. It doesn’t matter what your reason is, the Virtual Bullet will let you stick it to someone guilt-free!
Here’s how it works: On January 1st of each year, every person who paid taxes for the previous year will receive their Virtual Bullet in the form of a red, white and blue toy gun. It will be easily identifiable to ensure it’s not seen and met with actual gunfire, which is crucial for people cruising through South Central Los Angeles or high school corridors.
When a person decides to use his Virtual Bullet, he aims it at the recipient and pulls the trigger. The toy gun will emit a distinct popping sound, which is strictly for the amusement of the shooter and any possible witnesses. At the same time, the gun will take a photo of the “victim.” If the intended happens to be a telephone customer service rep., the shooter can simply shoot the gun toward his phone, making sure the date, time and phone number are visible.
Once the bullet has been expended, the happy taxpayer then submits the gun, a brief form and a $30 processing fee. The small fee is necessary to ensure the submittor is serious about taking down the offender plus the shooter will get a framed copy of the picture they took. On the flip side, anybody who doesn’t use their Virtual Bullet throughout the year will receive a $100 refund on their next year’s taxes (Virtual Bullets can not be carried over to the following year). This incentive will prevent drunk revelers from haphazardly using up their Virtual Bullets on New Year’s Eve.
Naturally, there are some rules and exceptions.
On to the punishments. It doesn’t matter what sort of infraction occurred, if someone pisses off another person to such an extent that the offended waives a refund and opts to pay a fee, the bullet recipient’s paying the price.
Punishments for bullets received over a three year period:
Sure there are a few kinks that need to be worked out, but I believe there are countless benefits to the Virtual Bullet. The biggest being that people could no longer treat others like crap and repeatedly get away with it scot free. Finally, they would be held accountable and THEIR victims would get a little satisfaction.
Don’t forget:
Vote “yes” on the Virtual Bullet
Vote “yes” on Common Sense Law
Common Sense Law
Regular readers may have gathered that I watch a lot of tv. The reason being that I spend half my day “working” Internet poker (“playing” makes it sound like it’s all fun and games, which it sometimes isn’t). I usually have four or five tables going at once and that still isn’t enough to hold my attention so watching the tube is the only other activity I can enjoy at the same time. Lots of people like to say, “TV kills your brain cells.” That’s probably a good thing. I think losing a few IQ points would make others less sufferable.
I rag on idiots all the time here, but the fact is, I’m jealous of them. If I had my choice to start all over, I’d come back as a raging moron. Stupid people are too stupid to realize how lucky they’ve got it. Idiots don’t flinch when people butcher the English language, they don’t shake in frustration when others can’t follow simple instructions, and they don’t look around for sharp aerodynamic objects when the cashier for a long line has to stop all movement every time her mouth opens (which is frequently). Jessica Simpson’s got it better than anybody on the planet. She’s a stupid girl surrounded by smart people who make all the important decisions for her. THAT is the good life.
I don’t think it’s fair that the imbeciles have it so easy while the rest of us must suffer. That’s why, when I’m president (I don’t think I’ve mentioned it here, but I’m going to be President of the U.S. someday), I plan to implement a policy that will make cohabitation with idiots more tolerable. I call the policy The Common Sense Act.
Here’s how it works: every citizen would be required to declare themselves as either CSR (Common Sense Ready) or ASS (All Simple Senses). Naturally, there are pros and cons to each. Life won’t change too drastically for the CSR, but it will for the ASS. Since the ASS need to be easily identifiable to the rest of us, they will be required to wear the official ASS hot pink fanny pack at all times. In addition, their vehicle must be outfitted with the hot pink ASS bumper. Not a sticker, a bumper.
CSR will be required to cut ASS some slack on stupid actions. For instance, if you’re behind an ASS who’s driving too slow in the fast lane, you can not honk at them but will have to go around (unless you too are an ASS, in which case you are allowed to honk continuously until you inevitably crash into the other car). ASS are permitted to send emails with the subject, “Fwd: Fwd: Fwd: Fwd: Horse sex video.” CSR have a one “Fwd” maximum and must use the BCC option for all recipients. ASS are allowed to remain in physically/verbally/mentally abusive relationships. CSR have one month to get out.
Right now, being an ASS probably sounds pretty good, but there are some drawbacks. For example, if an ASS goes to a restaurant and orders a 16 oz filet mignon, the waiter would see the fanny pack and could decide to bring the ASS an 8 oz pork loin instead. In all likelihood, the ASS won’t notice the difference, but if she does, she can only complain and/or get her order fixed if she can give a good estimate of how much 8 oz is and if she can correctly name which animals each cut of meat comes from (if she pronouned the “g” in “mignon” when ordering, there’s no second chance and she’ll have to eat whatever she gets). Basically, there’s no punishment for a CSR taking advantage of an ASS but the CSR must resolve the situation if the ASS figures out the scam.
So that gives you an idea of how Common Sense law would work. But being categorized as CSR is a privillege that can easily be revoked. The punishments for a CSR exemplifying ASS behavior are as follows:
You will be eligible for reevaluation each year, except in extreme cases (like Anna Nicole Smith) who are eligible for reevaluation one year after the first witnessed incident of any sort of CSR behavior. I truly believe this will encourage people to use common sense on a regular basis. Those who choose not to, will be at the mercy of the CSR.
Don’t forget, vote “yes” on the Common Sense Act.
Ways To Get Out Of Prison
There are four jailhouse stories in the news that I have to comment on:
Nine inmates escaped from Wa. jail: They escaped through the ceiling then used bed sheets to get them down the four-story building. I’m not an architect or a security expert, but I’m pretty sure I could figure out a way to keep a person from escaping from my first story unit. That nine “maximum security” prisoners broke out of a jail is unbelievable. Who’s on security patrol? Barney Fife?
Inmates vie for “Miss Penitentiary” title: Seriously- a beauty pageant for inmates. If Trump gets his hands on this one, the “Miss America” pageant could officially be dead (although, I suppose its move to the country channel is already worse than death).
Crips founder/death row inmate was nominated for Nobel Peace Prize: There’s been a lot in the news about the scheduled execution of Crips found Stanley “Tookie” Williams. He killed four people then spent the last 20 years in prison co-writing children’s books about the dangers of gang life. It seems like an odd subject matter to tuck the kiddies in with, “Tommy passed the Crips’ initiation test, but he won’t get to attend many of the group’s ice cream socials. As a result of his two day killing spree, he’ll be spending the next 20 years as Big Daddy’s lil’ bitch. The End. Ok, sleep tight.” I think it’s great when anybody turns a negative into a positive, but a Nobel Peace Prize nomination? A death row inmate should have a better shot at People’s “Sexiest Man Alive” title than a peace prize. I would think one of the criteria for the prize would be “hasn’t killed anybody in cold blood” but I guess they allow up to four murders.
Teacher pleads guilty to having sex with minor and avoids jail time: When it comes to statutory rape cases, I believe there is some grey area extending to about age 16, maybe even 15 in the case of a particularly mature “victim.” But when the potential punishment (15 years) lasts longer than one of the participants has been alive (14 years), that’s statutory rape. All this woman had to do was plead guilty to her crimes and now she’ll do no jail time whatsoever. She’ll serve three years of house arrest and seven years of probation. While I don’t believe the young boy was scarred for life- I’m sure he’s the most popular kid in school for scoring with his hot teacher- I don’t believe in the Christian theory of punishment: all you have to do is admit you were wrong and ask for forgiveness and poof! You’re absolved of your sins. Three years of house arrest? Please. That’s not so different from my chosen lifestyle. But I guess it’s what’s to be expected from the Jeb Bush state these days.
“Buy Me a Beer?”
I went to my corner 7-11 and a guy who looked to be about 20 asked me if I’d buy him a 40-ouncer of beer.
“I’ll let you keep the change,” was his big selling point.
For a split second I considered it, but declined. I don’t know if my refusal was due to the suspicious way he mentioned he was underage (duh, why else would he need me to buy him beer?) or if it was because he was hustling in full view of the cashier which made me think he was too stupid to deserve a nice cold libation. In any event, being underage wasn’t the issue for me. What’s the harm in a young guy having a beer?
Several minutes later, I’m standing in line and notice a commotion outside. Yep, a bunch of cops jumped two guys who did what some cool cat probably did for them when they were teenagers. My heart pounded for a few seconds thinking that if certain circumstances had been different, maybe that would have been me up against the wall.
The whole situation pissed me off. Here were a handful of undercover cops assigned to trap suckers at 7-11. Is the LAPD under the impression they’ve got the rest of the crime in Los Angeles so well under control they have to set people up to commit victimless crimes? Or has the new subway system cut into the lucrative business of parking violations so now they have to resort to even seedier methods of collecting fines?
I couldn’t help but sneer at the cops as I left, partly because they were wasting taxpayer dollars and partly because none of them had the balls to tell their boss to shove it when he assigned the ridiculous task. Then I told the kid,”I knew you looked like a little weasel.”
I’m hoping I’ll see him again because next time, I’m taking the cash and buying myself a beer.
