To sum it up, I am on the case as the Star Juror. As such, I decided to look on the bright side of things, screaming for a sequestering mainly because it’s a sexy sounding word that is also sexy to physically say, but also because I love hotels, the smell of them, the feel of them, the little breakfast muffins that aren’t as good as they look, the lawless irresponsibility of being a patron there. But alas…given the particular type case, I am not to be sequestered.

Additionally, I lost a whole ass-load of money setting up a conjugal visit in the jury room, only to be forcibly informed that apparently there are at least two or three things connected to such an attempt that are disallowed because of some technicality or law or something.

And so the trial goes forward as moist as chalk dust. Through abstract observations, although several other things, mentioned and unmentioned previously, remind me a great deal of High School, I found the procedure and strategy of the actual court proceedings to be particularly noteworthy. In High School, one of my government classes held a mock trial and I was chosen as a lawyer to mock it. I based my entire case on whether or not the witnesses trusted pants or not. The case had nothing to do with pants. I won.

I suspect some of the same in this: reality. And in the end, I will perform admirably and honorably as always, eventually graduating and awaiting “High School Part VII”.

I’m Thomas K…and I’m not.

*I yet refute the science of this claim.

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