IT’S ALL ABOUT THE LOOPHOLE
#DailyMischief
I was called in for Jury Duty this week. Correction: I postponed my mandatory jury duty service (from last November) to this week.
My true confession over this is I would be overjoyed to be able to exercise my freedom as an American and serve on a jury. Really and truly. Pinky swear.
And I know I’m not alone in this. You’ve fantasized about kicking some criminal booTAY on a jury ever since you watched your first episode of Law and Order (and for you ancient – ahem – Nick at Nite types, maybe it was Perry Mason). It’s true. Admit it. We both have fantasized, even though we know the system works against itself and is one flawed MOFO. If you happen to be one of the few people who disagrees with me on this, I have just two more words for you: CASEY ANTHONY.
O.J.
Black Glove.
George Zimmerman.
Lorena Bobbitt.
Apparently I have a lot of words.
And those trial lawyers are crafty sonsabitches. But hey, I may not have killed anyone or anything like that, per se, but I’ve wished some pretty bad things. Things like my neighbor falling in a ditch and never coming back, ‘n stuff. And if that were punishable by death (or at ALL) I’d want one of those people on my side doing some fancy footwork.
I postponed my original jury duty in November when I was about to leave town to join M.C. Nugget in Arizona on his film set. I wasn’t about to miss that, and the court said I could only postpone this last time. So I did. I picked this week, not knowing what the future held, or that some of our very best friends would choose this FRIDAY, VALENTINE’S DAY to get married (during the day, no less).
OY.
I needed some fancy footwork of my own.
Here’s what I did:
- I reported for duty, on time, as directed.
- I listened carefully to the verbal instructions of the boss lady in the jury room. (My ear was tuned in for any clues that might help… things like being “EXCUSED” and whatnot. When it came up, my brain zeroed in on everything she said).
- I followed her directions implicitly, and after a brief interview with a woman who wanted some fitness tips, I got my official EXCUSED stamp.
Actually, I discovered my footwork didn’t even have to be that fancy. When it comes to dealing with the county clerk’s office, the hall of records, the courts… hell, basically any government office or agency, your footwork can be…eh… mediocre. You’d probably still be okay even if you can’t dance at all.
There is always a way to delay, distract, discombobulate or defer.
There is always a loophole.
In the end I found mine, which I’d love to share with you, but because I don’t want the courts to read this and decide to crack down on people with excuses like mine, I’ll leave it to your imagination and incredible ingenuity. Just trust me. I got out of it and it was all about the loophole.
photo credit:
myfuture.com / Foter / CC BY-ND