Bringing Bastards to Justice
Yesterday was the most exciting and important day of my entire life, at least as far as putting people behind bars goes anyway.
It all started a few months ago when I got an exciting letter in the mail from the people who run the courts here in New York City. Apparently they wanted me to come down to their courthouse and be a juror on one of their juries so I could help put a few criminals behind bars. I'm not sure how they tracked me down, but I'm guessing that somewhere along the line one of the judges or a bailiff or someone must have found out that my dad is a lawyer and -- as a result -- I pretty much have legal expertise coursing through my veins and am totally ready to sort out any sort of legal bullsh*t someone might throw my way at all times.
Anyway, the letter I got in the mail said that I had to show up on a specific date and time at the courthouse near my apartment. I was pretty excited about it. I called my mom to borrow some money to buy a seersucker suit and everything. Still, by the time the date I was supposed to show up rolled around I had forgotten about it and ended up not showing up to help put people behind bars that day. When I discovered the jury duty (this is the official term, I'm told) letter under a pile of crap in my apartment a few weeks later, I was pretty bummed that I had missed out on my big chance to help clean up this town. I imagine the people down at the courthouse must have felt the same way (except maybe for the guilty person who is probably out on the streets and up to their old tricks again as a result of me not being there to hand out my own brand of swift justice that day).
Fortunately for me, the people down at the courthouse weren't satisfied to just keep going about their business without getting me involved, so sure enough a few weeks later I got another letter from them asking me to come down and help them bring criminals to justice. I was pretty psyched about it. Even better was the fact that this time around the court people had me lined up to be a part of something called a "grand jury," which is a really awesome kind of jury that gets to help put murderers, rapists, loiterers, and other bad people in the gray bar hotel for life. I could not wait!
When the big day rolled around, I headed down to the courthouse at 9am just like they had asked me to. I even brought a large coffee with me (milk, one sugar) so my incredible legal mind would remain razor sharp for at least a couple hours. When I got to the courthouse, they had me wait in a long line with a bunch of other people who looked like they didn't have jobs and then they made me go through a big metal detector. It was kind of like being at the airport or something only this time instead of flying home to see my parents I was going on a trip to the Halls of Justice! It was a pretty great feeling (even though they took away my knife).
Once I got finished with the metal detector/rectal exam, I headed upstairs to the actual courtroom where all the other great legal minds and I got to sit down and wait to see what sort of action the court people might be throwing our way. After a couple minutes, a large bald man in a shirt and tie came out and explained to us exactly what was expected of us. It was like a scene from the hit movie "To Kill A Mockingbird" only with not as good outfits and less flattering lighting.
To be honest, I didn't understand much of what the large bald man had to say other than something about us getting free lunch at some point. And then when he started talking about how we'd have to be on the grand jury for anywhere between two weeks and six months, I was pretty much officially "not on board" with the whole jury duty thing anymore. I had assumed the "grand" in grand jury meant "really fun," but this was clearly not the case. And as one of this nation's foremost political analysts/dude who is pretty f*cking sweet in general, I simply do not have time to be dicking around in a courthouse for up to six months straight, no matter what crazy bastard might be sitting there waiting for me to decide his fate. I need about five minutes to decide whether someone should be left to rot in a jail cell for 25 years or whether they should fry instantly. Within a few minutes, it became pretty clear to me and pretty much everyone else in the courtroom (the large bald man included) that having me there that day was like asking Michael Jordan to suit up for a junior high basketball game or something- completely unnecessary no matter how exciting it might be for everyone else in the room.
Within a few minutes I was dismissed and, by 11am or so, I was back home in bed. Don't get too comfortable though, criminals. The people down at the courthouse tell me they'd like me to come back in about six months. So live it up for now, bitches- I'll be back to bring the hammer down on your ass again before you know it.