I do try entertain myself whilst doing my civic duty by being a huge pain in the ass, which is made easy by my inherent distrust of government power. Unlike far too many so-called "conservatives," I don't abide by a philosophy that suggests that the government can't deliver the mail - which has your fucking address on it and everything - yet have all of their ducks in a row during a criminal prosecution. Your mail couldn't be less complicated, which can't be said of even the most basic trial. Most defendants, as you might imagine, don't keep written, photographic or electronic records of themselves committing crimes.
This is important in that the criminal justice system is the single greatest threat to individual liberty imaginable. No matter how much you may detest, for example, the DMV, there is very little chance that you'll be brutally raped by a biker gang there. However, the odds of a Steppenwolf-inspired gay gang rape go up dramatically once you wind up in front of a jury of your peers. Conversely, you should note that the prosecutor almost never gets sodomized in the rare event that they lose a trial.
I try not to admit this in public very often, but I also have a conscience. Understanding the system as I do, I know that my decision as a juror could impact another person's life in an especially brutal way. I also know how impatient, lazy and fucking heartless most people can be. Maybe this makes me weird, but I don't know if I could live with myself knowing that some poor schmuck wound up with four feet of Hells Angel in his colon just because I simply had to see the dramatic season finale of Two and Half Men.
Then there are my own, somewhat savage, views on crime and punishment to consider. I don't think the system is harsh enough on the guilty. Were it up to me, there would be a lot of folks that wind up with broken feet as a consequence of traffic court. That being the case, I really need to be convinced that the person whose limbs I'd have shattered is actually guilty of the specific things they're accused of.
For all of those reasons, I might be the most pro-defense juror in human history. However, there are times when other considerations come into play.
Almost a decade ago, I sat in judgement of a really cute black chick who was accused, of all things, of cheating on her fucking student loans. I was furious that the government deemed it necessary to waste an entire week of my life on this horseshit. And just after I had gotten a big promotion at work, no less. The lost professional productivity of the 12 jurors, combined with the salaries of both legal teams, the judge and the courtroom staff dwarfed the defendant's petty fraud by several degrees of magnitude.
If it were up to me, the matter would have been resolved by my giving her a rimjob that would have had her seeing God His own self and swearing to forevermore live a righteous life. But no, I had to do it the goddamned government's way, which took nearly a week.
In the end, the facts were against my Nubian princess and I had little choice but to convict her. In the end, everybody lost. The friggin' government spent tens of thousands of dollars prosecuting a $4,000 fraud that the language in the terms of the loan didn't make clear to her actually was a fraud, the jury wasted a week of their lives and who knows how much money in lost productivity at work, I didn't get the opportunity to taste her dumper, and she probably never saw God, what with her life being ruined and all.
I was convinced that that week, all those years ago, taught me everything I needed to know about the disrepair that justice itself had fallen into.
Obviously, I was wrong. For that, we would have to visit the First Municipal District Circuit Court of Cook County, Illinois, where a civil case against a used car dealership called, sexily enough, Exotic Motors is being her. It is there that we find the single oddest motion in all of Christendom.
MOTION IN LIMINE
(Presence of Plaintiff's Counsel's Companion at Counsel's Table at Trial).
Now Comes your Defendant, Exotic Motors, by and through their attorneys, Gauthier & Gooch, and as for their Motion as aforesaid states to the Court as follows:
1. That Defendant's counsel is anecdotally familiar with the tactics and theatrics of Plaintiff's counsel, [redacted]. Such behavior includes having a large breasted woman sit next to him at counsel's table during the course of the trial. There is no evidence whatsoever that this woman has any legal training whatsoever, and the sole purpose of her presence at Plaintiff's Counsel's table is to draw the attention of the jury away from the relevant proceedings before this court, obviously prejudicing the Defendant's in this or any other cause. Until it is shown that this woman has any sort of legal background, she should be required to sit in the gallery with the rest of the spectators and be barred from sitting at counsel's table during the course of this trial.
The paralegal at issue has only been described as a "large breasted woman." Well, are they beautifully large, or freakishly so. I understand that these things are, of course, subjective, but there comes a time when everybody can agree on such a thing.
How exactly are those milkbags "draw(ing) the attention of the jury away from the relevant proceedings before this court?" Is there a trampoline beside the counsel table that she utilizes during bench conferences? Is she she picking last night's popcorn from her formidable cleavage whilst sucking slowly on a pencil? Is she wearing nipple clamps? Should she be? Shouldn't all women with fantastic funbags?
How do we know that the jury is having its attention drawn away? Are they squeezing their crotches until their knuckles turn white and barking at the bailiff to bring them milk?
And what kind of fucking lawyers are Exotic Motors hiring anyway? Don't they know that everybody loves giant knockers and by highlighting their antagonism toward same, they lose right-thinking people everywhere? Even the confusingly uptight whores at Jezebel are outraged by this, and it's tough to figure out what their philosophical position on anything is.
If the defendant's counsel were really smart, they'd fight fire with fire. They'd hire a "paralegal" that would attend to her "personal grooming" during the testimony of the plaintiff's witnesses, or maybe fire ping-pong balls out of herself that would hit the bench from time to time. If I was their lawyer, I'd wear really tight trousers without underpants to showcase my awesome wang. Every woman that's seen or felt it can't stop raving about how gorgeous it is.
If you ever wondered why I never went to law school, now you know. It just isn't sexy enough.
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