At Your Service: A Trial of Ordeals

by April 9th, 2008 - Society »

So…it has been confirmed.* I am a real human being, born of this planet. I am on the grid, on the records, in the mix, of the people, more fact than fiction. Bollocks!

I have contracted jury duty…or as I like to call it, “High School PART VI”. Given that I couldn’t keep a straight face in even an empty room while contemplating excuses for not taking part, I chose to take part.

On the first day, we were shown a video that essentially communicated, “In olden times, it was common practice that the accused were beheaded before put on trial…so you should be happy about your small dumb sacrifice for something far better than you deserve, you good-for-nothing whining punks – kids these days!”

This video goes on to be irresponsibly paraphrased as, “Some greeks once thought the way we thought. But the Romans said to hell with that and decided to crucify our lord Jesus Christ. But today we would kill Christ through a much longer and emotionally draining parade of bureaucracy and officialdom. Huzzah?!”

During the more edu part of this edutainment, a sample court case was shown highlighting common court procedures without really giving any information about this supposedly fake proceeding. But I’m too damn good of a juror for that. I knew that unseen and unmentioned fiend was guilty and I was not about to let him or her get away with it, bursting from my chair, “That fucker’s guilty as all shit!”

This clearly impressed the clerks as I was singled out along with 29 of my fellow man to sit on a jury selection panel. I thought for a moment of turning pro at this time, negotiating a higher daily rate for myself and signing lucrative endorsements, but I chose instead to be the Lebron James of my sport, a humble, moral role model for all the young kids wearing my juror card at home…while still performing no less amazing feats in the court…for the fans.

Then we all sat around for 8 hours and another 8 hours. An endurance test to be sure. I, myself, died three separate times, but still passed this part of the exam based on my earlier accolades of screaming barely intelligible, obscene accusations in relation to a vague fictional case.

I must admit, however, that a bit of stage fright did set in right before the next ordeal. Did I really want to do this? I very seriously doubted my obligation to society at that moment…really. I had then settled on painting myself as unattractive a juror as I could –no small task given my stunning physical appearance.

As I was early in the pool, the questions came quickly. Most of my answers stuttered thusly, “I…um…I LIKE PUPPIES PRETTY GOOD!” Damn! To my amazement I found that I was neither biased nor capable of lying about being biased. It seems I can only lie when it is completely useless to me except as entertainment. This is a serious character flaw…and I will train hard to carry with me many more biases in the future.

My heart sank further as I heard incredible ironclad tales from the potential jurors that followed me:

“Is there anything that would prejudice me in any way regarding the case? Well…I know everyone involved in the case and have slept with every one of them in ways that would surely be considered illegal if they had ever been encountered or performed previously…including you Counsel. Why haven’t you called? It’s been a week. Don’t you love me?”

And another:

(Here, imagine the voice of a genuinely proud redneck.)

“Me? What do I do for a living? Well, I’m a Kitten PFAUCKER! Three or four a day on average. Sometimes we’re swinging two at a time, one in each hand, double pumping piston action. And on some days…if I’m really feeling it…we’re talking 24 hours straight with only a physical to temporal ratio restraining my limit for the day. A Kitten PFAUCKER! Yup…that’s me.”

So…I’m boned. Everyone else in the pool is an absolute monster and I am adorable in almost every way to each side of the case, so much so that they thought of putting their case aside and marketing a line of action figures and plush dolls based upon my likeness through a Saturday morning cartoon. This is yet in negotiations.

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