Warning: Though I’ve tried to remove graphic details of the case, what follows is an account of my experience as a juror on a trial that included some degree of domestic violence. It’s my understanding reading these types of things can be very stressful to people who have suffered through these situations.
I confess I may have played a part in ruining a woman’s life. Some time in January, I got a jury summons. Some time last week, I called the number to see if I had to report. I did. When I reported, I was sent up to a courtroom as a prospective juror. As we filed in, we saw a woman sitting with a lawyer, and a man sitting with a lawyer. “Thank God,” I thought. “Civil.”
Wrong. The man with the lawyer was a detective. The judge read us the indictment and revealed this was a trial for felonious assault. The woman sitting with her back to us was accused of stabbing her boyfriend. Oh crap.
After the jury questionnaires had been filled out, the judge called the first name. It was mine. All the jokes about dodging having to serve evaporated immediately. This got very real, very quickly. The judge asked whether I was married or living with a partner. Being a former math major, I instinctively answered this “or” question with a yes. She chuckled. “May I ask which it is?”
“Oh, sorry. I’m married, yes.”
She went on to ask where I worked, how long I had been there. What did my wife do? How long had she been there? Did I have any kids, and if so, how old were they? Had I brought any reading material? I explained awkwardly that I was reading a book called “Sharp Objects”.
With those questions answered, a second juror was called. In all, 18 jurors were interviewed after me. With every one of them, she found a way to take one of their answers and ask a follow-up question about how this might have biased them against either the defense or the prosecution. When I realized this contrast with my own questions, I figured I could call my wife and my boss and let them know I’d be busy for the next few days. Continue reading
My left nostril is the nostril that is on the side of the hand that when held up with thumb horizontal and forefinger vertical is forming an L. This is certain. Many such things are certain however much it is imaginable that hands and fingers could well be arranged in a way that the hand so forming an L would actually be the right hand. Nature is boring, chickens are chickens and the rest of us have knees protruding from our legs in the same direction as our face.
My point being that I hate points.
It will not be too long before somebody will say somewhere: “The Greek Tiger has risen from its ashes like a phoenix.” and not realize that it is the linguistic equivalent of:
Which brings me to a new pet hatred: cats on YouTube, or to be more precise: anything on YouTube. While parents think their children or making grammatical errors on FaceBook or Twitter, what they are really doing is typing in ‘cat slam into glass door’ or ‘fall in hole dressed clown’ or … this is how it must feel to have your brain sucked out of your skull. I hate that the last sentence made me try ‘brain sucked out skull’. Don’t worry, I counterbalanced the bad karma by googling in ‘Santorum’.
Anyway, I have nothing against nature and I hope that the Greeks will Tiger themselves up soon (if only to show the right nutwings that they can go burn themselves to ashes after calling some of us lazy based on nothing else then our physical location and/or ethnic descent) but nature did create Santorum and that’s much worse even than spiders so it cannot be all good.
This was a despicable year. The rich were so busy putting their own problems first that they could now finally fully ignore what the poor were down to. Or:
The SuperWest acted as if a piece of Debtonite suddenly required us to be the center of all attention. That would have been despicable enough but we went on to square despicable in Continue reading
First and foremost I hate that somebody changed the way this blog is displayed on my iPod. By displaying full length posts rather than excerpts, he or she seriously degraded my established having-a-quiet-shit routine. The only revenge I see open to me is to force Continue reading
She was somewhat of a number. Like many of her generation she longed for epic disaster as the only way out of her present predicament. Getting hit by a car, for instance, when crossing the road. Unfortunately for her longing, she crossed roads in a prudent manner not just respecting all applicable regulations but building in additional safety. This meant her chances of car injury were vanishingly slim. It was not a matter of avoiding being hit by a car, she was just unable to break rules that made sense to her. And it made a lot of sense to her not to burden an accidental driver by with the guilt of having hit anybody.
Hers is a familiar position to be in: confined without being physically restricted. She realized it and that’s how she came to plan her escape from civilization. Continue reading
I confess that I have acquired new superpowers. I can now embed video and I can ‘Align Full’. As I like to flatter myself that I am somewhat suffering from OCD (what one clings on to to be special!) this will significantly increase my comfort as well as my self-esteem.
I can now confess that:
It would have been a more convincing show of talent and text control if I would have been able to have found something that were allowed to play in this window. I know this. It just goes to show how much of a poseur I really am. I try, obvious to everybody is that I just try. By the way, the video is as bad as the song is great so it is probably better to have it play in another window.
I confess that I am fed up with all of the drama of modern times. I sure wish that for those believing that things are going to the shit-hole nowadays we could organize a reversal of time such that they could live through history backwards. I would give them eternal life so they wouldn’t miss any of the fun of the times that were supposedly so much better than ours. I am a cultural optimist and I confess that I don’t even feel like this is something to confess to.
‘Get over it already!’ is a thought I confess to having most of the times when somebody gets all excited about this position of that individual or yonder group of idiotic morons. I know that there are morons out there that can bend the facts much faster than Magneto would be able to bend the tiniest of needles. I know that. I am not blind. But are they increasing their numbers? I confess I don’t think so. And that’s mostly because I am a poseur.
Not that things are as they should be. I am not a cultural stagnist. For those believing this is as good as it can get I confess that I would sure wish that this is as good as it would get, for them. Because in dying on the spot they would not experience all of the many good fun that is still out there, yet to come.
I confess to being jealous of Kotsko, Adam and of Wolfson, Ben and of Davies, Daniel all of which are amongst those who’re notorious on this corner of the internet in which I am posing as somebody who likes to make people stare. Hell, I confess to once even having posed as a girl. My facade is just a fake. I’m a laid back non-actvist who thinks things are on the up and up and who is quite content with being popular with The Wife and The Kids and notorious in this corner of the world with a couple of anonymous individuals who are my friends.
I confess that being an anonymous individual is not the worst aspiration to have, all in all.
Has anyone noticed that whenever Obama is near the point of achieving a major legislative reform, a Democratic senator dies? Health care reform killed Ted Kennedy, while financial reform killed Robert Byrd.
My current theory is that the thought of actually achieving something after all these years was simply too much for their systems — and so I worry that any major push for cap and trade might actually take out two senators.
Over at AUFS, I posted a proposal to reform the Senate. In light of the recent Supreme Court ruling regarding corporate involvements in campaigns, I would like to give it another try. First of all, we would need to break the connection between senate seats and particular states, creating a pool of 100 at-large seats drawn from the entire country. Then, in order to save the cost and administrative overhead of a formal election, every two years the top 100 performers in the S&P 500 (by net average value for the period) would each appoint a senator. I had initially considered the idea of having the top 100 firms be chosen on the basis of market capitalization, but a share price-based metric seems more fair, as it would allow innovative, up-and-coming firms to have their say rather than having everything determined by sheer size.
The senators themselves would of course receive stock options in addition to a modest base salary paid by the appointing corporation, to ensure that their interests lined up with those of the shareholders. Each corporation would supply the requisite staff for their senator, and the Congressional Budget Office’s responsibilities would be contracted out to the ratings agencies on a rotating basis. Along with the money saved by not having a formal election, the savings on senatorial pay and staff could be put toward deficit reduction.
It’s clear now that every half-assed attempt at a terrorist attack will cause the TSA to come up with some tangentially-related “security” measure that will make us even more miserable whenever we have the misfortune of travelling by air. That’s why I think someone needs to take a hit for the team and attempt an attack in the security line itself — then the long security lines will themselves be seen as a danger, and they will be forced to streamline the process. Or else it will create a paradox that will short-circuit the TSA, causing it to blow up.