Hi,
Right now I’m on writing to you from something called “reccess” here at 111 Centre St. in picturesque downtown New York City. I’m here at the criminal courthouse on the 6th floor, room 631, because I am attempting to fulfill something called my “civic duty” in a process known as “jury duty.”
Let me tell you, it’s pretty much as awesome as you’ve heard. Because this is the “criminal” as opposed to the “civil” court, I am currently being screened to be a juror in “criminal trial.” Shockingly this “criminal trial” involves an Hispanic man of limited English proficiency who has been charged with something called “possession with intent to sell.” The Assistant District Attorney says that the accused was in possession of “approximately five twists of cocaine and had attempted to sell said twists to an undercover police officer.”
One by one those of us seated in the jurors box get asked if we can foresee ourselves being unable to act as “impartial” jurors in such a trial. Two seats down from me is a guy who on first glance bares a striking resemblance to Snoop Dog. Whoah, for some reason the DA just totally skipped over that dude. The guy next to me, the Financial Advisor Hedge Fund dude from Boston, is certain that while he does sympathize with the idea that we may be misdirecting funds in something called “the war on drugs” he is nonetheless sure that he can separate his brain from his sympathizing parts and be an impartial juror. Ditto from the part-time farmer /part-time professor senior citizen who you just know took part in some awesome demonstrations in the ‘60’s. She actually is going on about civic duty and how we must all follow the law as the judge delivers it to us. Really? Granny?
One can’t help but pause and take in all of the woman in general and men of color working either as Judge or law enforcement, DA etc. who are upholding a bunch of laws about “drugs” that are about to completely ruin this man’s life as if … oh, never mind.
Then there is the resident “colossal a@$#ole” who previously had tried to convince the Judge to relieve him of jury duty on account of the fact that he couldn’t hear what was being said while the translator was WHISPERING in Spanish. Now he’s yammering on about how he’s “very involved in the Police Department and under no circumstances would he question the honesty of someone working in Law Enforcement.” Whoah. I know. But that’s really what he said. I swear. It took almost all the strength I have not to wipe almost all of my private parts on his Kenneth Cole sportcoat you just know his (ex)wife found for $74.99 at Century 21 back in 2003. The best part was when the Judge, who is incidentally, a living breathing monument to the phrase “I’ve heard it all” asks, “So, Mr. Bullsh_______er, exactly what kind of work do you do with the police?” To which Mr. Bullsh_______artist exclaims, “Oh well, you know, fundraising and events. I’m influential in the police fundraising and I work very closely with Commissioner Kelly.” To which I was not the only person who was not a bailiff who actually laughed out loud. How many people make the bailiff laugh out loud? What a prick. I mean … Yeah, you’re so tight with Commissioner Kelly. And I play bass in Mother Feather! Ha! Oh, wait, I do. Hang on, lemme think of something cooler than playing in Mother Feather … Tick Tock. Hmmmmm. Oh, yeah, here’s what I shoulda said, “Yeah, you’re so tight with Commissioner Kelly. And I play bass in Mother Feather and we’re putting out an awesome self produced EP next month that you should totally stay tuned about.” Anyway. Everyone totally hated that guy so much you could feel it in the air. No wonder he’s … oh never mind.
Then it’s my turn. I’m pretty nervous actually. Because I have not done hard drugs in almost 20 years, I start by mumbling something about ‘Ummmm, what are twists?’ To which everyone really laughs. They are, if you didn’t know, small paper wrapping of cocaine. Then the judge and the DA and I talk nonchalantly about regressive laws and how yes it is technically possible to determine if the DA, self-referenced here as “The People,” has proven a series of facts and how said facts would theoretically relate to the law as dictated by the judge but that if the law itself is misinformed, wrong, dumb or whatever, what’s the point of all of us spending all this time and energy and money talking about sending a guy to prison for selling a few “twists.” Twists. Please.
Alas, the experience of being amongst a well sampled sampling of society was interesting and enlightening. Lots of people live out their supposed stereotypes. Fortunately for the future, today I would say that at least half of the prospective jurors ultimately came out and said something to the effect that “this is lame dude. Your drug laws are lame dude. And I don’t wanna be a part of it.” At least that’s what I sounded like because I was playing the part of the aging rocker dude who says dude a lot on account of living so long in Southern California where I used to snort blow like it was going out of style. In fact, I tought it did go out of style. But I guess I was wrong.
In related news, Casey Shea is driving around the country by himself. You should try to catch him if you can …
Mwah!
M
