Jury Duty. Again. Sigh.

Danko Jones—Sleep Is The Enemy

MoTW—Where's Marlowe?

Anyway, as I was saying awhile ago, before I was forced to take a few
weeks off from writing stuff (and that seems to be happening more often
than not), I was picked AGAIN for jury duty, something which I don't
want to do at all, whatsoever, no way in hell.

Of course the woman is pissed because she hasn't been chosen, unlike moi
who has been chosen TWICE in less than two years. She really wants to go
because it gives her an excuse not to work. Since I don't work and would
rather hang around the house checking shit out on the internet, this
infringes on my right as an American citizen.

The woman did give me an idea and that was to make it known that I
believe that anyone that's arrested is guilty no matter what the
circumstances are. Sure, that's all grand and good, but that still means
that I have to get off my ass and go to a fucking courthouse.

The last time I went, I was luckily not one of the chosen ones. And
that's good because they were asking prospective jurors what they did
for a living and I wasn't really keen on saying, "I really don't do
anything but stay home and surf the internet for free porn" since that
could possibly get to the wrong people and they'll smash their way into
my house because they think I might be doing something illegal or
immoral.

No, that wouldn't be a good answer. But they did open a door in case I
was picked. Another question was if you knew anyone that had their life
impacted by a drunk driver and, if picked, I was ready to break down and
cry about my little brother who was struck down in the prime of his life
by a drunken bus driver and that, to this/that day, I wished all drunk
drivers would get the electrical chair and then damned to hell. All
drunk drivers except me, of course. I know how to hold my liquor and
drive in a fairly straight line, thank you very much.

Now I have to go through this shit all over again which is tough since I
think I have ADD and can't listen to more than a minute of anyone
(except those on TV) drone on and on about this and that. I don't think
falling asleep in court is an option, nor is staring blankly off into
space so I'm kinda screwed. On top of that I've found that I'm getting
gassier and gassier every day and folks wouldn't be that keen on me if I
rip out some juicy poots.

So in ten days I have to tighten my sphincter and go sit with people I
don't know and most probably won't like. But then again, I could have
someone put to death which would be kinda cool. Even if it's for
jaywalking. I'll have power I DON'T WANT!!!!!!

Pity me. You must.

But don't pity Bob and his lies. I didn't "force" him to write a blog. I
"recommended" that he should because it would be "fun" and "cathartic"
since he had no "life" and he would be able to meet new "friends" on
this internet thing.

Then, when I took a break from shocking his humongously enormous
testicles with live jumper cables, he agreed. Go figure.

And yes, I wore gloves.

And no, it wasn't erotic in the least.

COMING NEXT: What happened to those annual fearless predictions?

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