yard.work

“MOW THE LAWN…MOW THE LAWN….MOW THE LAWN”.” Yes I need to cut the grass”. “It’s a jungle out there”.
A ghost, small shadow of a man responds to the voices in his head. In the solitude of the mechanical background noise and the electronic magnetic field generation from the computer monitors, he listens to the chatter of his keyboard and clicking of his finger on the mouse. Body disconnected from thought processes, a modern corporate human user interface schizoid, buried in the cubefarm, 14^th floor, section 2, 1474. Drolling out an existence that meets the normality principle. In practice, the very model of a moderrrnn….man or major in  tel  lec  teerrr…..general.  As if sudden awaken and able to breathe. He glances around at the three and a half walls that surround him. Then a glaze comes over his eyes and he returns to the keyboard.
“Where did that come from I wonder?” “Don’t ask me”.” It sounds quite quadratic”.” Just stop it”. “I was thinking about grass”. “Yea, so is Sanjay”.” What?” “What”. “What?” “I need to cut the grass”. “I think its suppose to rain on..(?)Thursday(?)”.” No Friday from what I recall”. “Yea, I need to cut the grass, tonight”. “Just avoid the cat”. “That’s not a cat, it’s a monster”. “I know, should never have let it watch shark week”. “Yea, now you are just a baby seal”. “Tell me about it”. “Dove out from under the couch and tore up my leg, like a Great White”. “Damn cat”. “Freaking  Monster”.  “Seal, Damn,  I’ll like to do Heidi Klum”. “What?” “What?” “What!  
Ah..yeaaa…NO. I need to get this report out to Ms. Dante ASAP. I will not be able to attend that meeting. 
 “Did that phone actually ring, or did I just pick it up?” “I didn’t hear it ring”. “Of course it rang, idiots”. “That’s pretty aggressive”. “So when did the word progressive become an insult?” “Worst than liberal”. “Affront to society”. “They like to patter your butt with it”. “I wonder if Heidi likes to get...” “Shut up about Heidi already”. “I mean in general, isn’t progressive better than stagnant or backwards?”“I think this is getting progressively worst”. “You think so?” “Drop the sarcasm”. “Maybe I should talk to someone about this”. “Like you’re not now?” “Damn, if I could meet Heidi Klum..”. “Shut up!” “I need to cut the grass”.

Sub Hommie Sic Ooze

Definitely egotistical on my part, but….


Edward’s at the airport
Keeping off the extradites
We ‘re pounding the pavement
Disenfranchised by the government
The drone in the smog flight
Star wars, big fly
Sees you in it’s eye
smiles waves good bye
Look out kid
It’s somethin’ you did
God knows when
But you are doin’ it again
Gobble up and eat that smart phone
Facebook ain’t no friend
The turtle in the suit jacket
can’t ever bend
keep passing security bills
you can’t even defend.

Crow comes underfoot
County is back to root
Been years since they put
Votes in the right but
Don’t need them anyway
That’s what black robes say
They are in the way
This is just a different day
Look out kid
Don’t matter what you did
Disagreeing is a foe
Don’t try to tweet those
Skip that insta pose
Delete those tags goes
Blogging is just a flow
Meta data always knows
You don’t need a weatherman
To know which way the wind blows

Polar rized, right side
Tea bags giv sore eyes
need money to buy
Else your just fries
Good card, try hard
Always there, never bail
But right sized, downgrade, and they’re too big to fail
Look out kid
You’re gonna get hit
But users, cheaters
7 digit makin losers
rep'ed by NRC theaters
Girly on the small screen
Screamin Ayn Rand mean
Don’t miss the signs
And watch those time lines.

Ah re-cycling, alt energy
Eco friendly, user interface sustainability
Yell and cry, occupy
But the media won’t buy
Vote change, re-arrange, what the dif
On the stand, take the fifth
Twenty years of schoolin’
And your only workin a McyD’s shift
Look out kid
They keep it all hid
Money up the back hole
Lobbies playing want-a-be’s
Don’t wear hoodies
Won’t think you’re a goody
We need assault guns
And call school done
The Leggi won’t work
Because the wrongs are the would be’s


Sorry Bobby, but after all, it’s only tripe.

The real..
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-kQUkDOPeHA&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Morning

Red blood orange sun
Smoldering in the morning haze
Rouge cast landscapes
Burn with intensity
Death is in the air

Too Long, In Coming....sorry

The blue security cam blinked at a faster and faster rate. Badge not accepted, badge not accepted, badge not accepted came the grindy metallic female voice. Seriously? This is how my day is going to start?. “Mr X”, boomed in my ears. The voice of God, I thought, just what I need. I have got to get my freaking ass into my desk and do that IT think I do or I will be layed off, I don’t have time for a conversation with God. Hey, maybe I’m dead….yea right, I couldn’t be that lucky. “Mr X, this is security. Sorry for the inconvenience”, as the door made a clicky unlocking sound, “that badge reader has been giving us trouble all morning. You are all set”. Thanks God, I guess you do listen to prayers. Still, why do I feel that the sword of Damocles is hanging over me. Woops, wrong god worship.




The Marlborough man was slouching and leaning on the cubical wall. His McGyver hairdo, now grey, looked full from a distance but was a product of too much hair spray and it’s stiff wind resistance form hid a sparsely populated scalp. “Hey, Xy the badge police got you too”? “That’s X, Mr Marlborough”, I responded.” Yea, yea, Xy don’t get your panties in a wad”, came the reply. “Names are just superfluous identification that do not reveal the true nature of the item, or in this case, the individual described. Take your name for example, X was probably derived from the Latin xecatius that is loosely translated to be a murderous retch in the sub continent of eastern Europe. Now unless your family is hiding some deep dark past, which you hadn’t mentioned, I am sure that is an aleatory coincident. All in all, names are of no matter, because wouldn’t a rose be sweet, if it was named differently”? “No, no, the quote goes “That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet”. “You know, a rose smells sweet and Montague is just a name”, I joked. “I don’t truly understand what you are speaking of” responded Marlborough,” for I am but speaking for myself, you can quote ME on that”. The Marlborough Man spoke with those pretentious undertones of an over egotistical college professor, without the knowledge base. He seems to be a huge subscriber to “word of the day” and tried to use them as much as he could. Today’s must be aleatory, because yesterdays was superfluous. “So uh, Marlborough, are you going somewhere”? I questioned. His new manufacture’s distressed leather coat which was strung over one shoulder matched his J.C.Penney cowboy boots perfectly. “Smoke break”, he said. MBM always had a cigarette tucked behind his left ear and disappeared three to four times a day for 20 minutes smoke breaks, though I never saw him in the designated smoking area set up by our Corporate Mother. “Didn’t you just get here”? Respond I. “Besides, I need your input matrix for that vendor report before the end of the day”. “I’m glad you mentioned that”, MBM stated clearing his throat. “The challenge at the moment is providing a resolution to the issue in the short-term, which I question as being the successful solution". "Being that there are only two options currently available, I propose that a study is done on the value of the use of the matrix and it’s overall coherency to this proposal”. “I have consulted with Weasel Boy on this matter and will follow up with an email before the end of the day”. “So afterwards, let me know your thoughts and we can move forward from there”. “MBM, we have been over this numerous times, it is getting superfluous (trr…rump, bum, crash…in your face!), that matrix is a small but essential part of the vendor report , I need it before the end of the day”, I said with some annoyance. “Well, now that is what I call a pseudo-concise response". "I just don’t see the data as being RIO driven and feel sharing it in matrix form is poor communications” MBM came back with. “MBM, you have been working on this matrix for over a month". "As you are aware, the director of the Inner Circle of Hell wants it as part of the report”, I reminded him. “Well, I had worked on it exclusively yet then had to attend to other matters". "I will tweak what I have of a matrix form and pass the file onto you". "Please take the liberty of changing the format to justify the requirements and take ownership at that point”, MBM stated with the upmost authority.



Staring at the unwavering blue eye of God, I scream in solemn pray. "Open up the pearly gates and I shall follow the light to all eternity". "Mr. X, are you OK"? Came the response from security. "Yea, I’m just trying to remember where I parked my car".




 

Quite

Shhh….don’t tell anybody.....

....I’m still here. Still hanging on, still believing. Held down, drawn and quartered, the blood soaked floor bare witness to my obstinate refusal to give in. Castration (?) bring it on, I am already dead man walking. I came to the realization that my life could never make it as a reality TV show. No one would believe that it is not made up, that it is real. Besides, I wouldn’t want to fuck a Kardashian, I’m not that desperate.   

shaking a spear and barking at the moon

So what is happening to my little blog-o-sphere? It seems to be shrinking and vanishing before my eyes. I have seen it move toward oblivion. I realize that I have not posted what anyone would possibly call compelling or timely. But then again, I was never looking for ratings. Excuses, excuses, excuses. And I only have been a lure for trolls. No insult intended to all those few followers. Still, now I am restricted from commenting on some sites and dropped from preferred status like yesterdays entertainment (do you think Amanda Bynes will get her groove back and stop being a Hollywood has been?) news on other blogs? What an illusion burst. And some of those sites I really enjoyed. This is beginning to feel like where I work, dumped. It’s not like I’m an ax murderer (?!?) or a really psychotic (Zombies don’t count, and someone really needs to off the govn’r.) sociopathic (did I jst say that?) scitzo. I am just a whinny asshole, but looking at it that way, I may even dump me. How much whining can anyone take. Ya kno…. I think I will dump me. I’ve had it. Who the hell do I think I am? Everyone is right, what an egotistical looser. I should have listened to their advice and dumped me years ago. Just an albatross that draw out the days. I am so out of here, fuck me, I hate you x, you are blocked. You have wasted my fifteen minute for too long. I no longer need you, I no longer want you. You should leave now. Good bye x, you are just so, yesterday…………..just pure tripe.




There would have been a time for such a word. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools, the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing…..

winter wine

Winter seems particularly long this year. Snow peeks out from shadow areas and stands as dilapidated mound sentinels at corners and parking lots. The breeze blow chills around ungloved hands. My brain is frozen, a forgotten gallon of Ben and Jerry’s ice-cream in the back of the freezer. Looking at it, one wonders, if it’s still viable at all. How long has it been back there? It doesn’t look right. Do you remember buying it, I certainly don’t. But then again I wouldn’t, remember that is. Color has gone right out of me. Everything in dull hues. And I kinda remember that it is March, but it doesn’t feel that way. February, it still feels like February. Yet they tell me April is around the corner. Here my fingers ache, as I pound on the keys. Just another honkey tonk piano player in some smoke infested saloon, whining out his existence. I really have nothing to say, inarticulate beyond….um..? Yet I still come stumbling back here.

cursed

evil eyes forlonged stare befix upon me,
almond shaped lizard iris anime character.
what could I have possible done to piss you off?
Someone call Space Ghost, I need justice.

road trip

Fingers cold and stiff lie lifeless on keyboard

There is a noise inside my head that echoes around and around the empty dark corridors. Brushing by the cobwebs, they wave good-bye in its passing.

The darkness is the silence of the stone cast amongst the hillside.

And roadways littered with dirty brown snow, soiled filthy piles lining wet black asphalt, to splash and spread their contamination onto white lawn pureness.

Only steely grey skies bear witness to the rape as the petrol chemical fumes churn from the planet destroyer enroute to the gates of Hell.

You will have the presentation done before we arrive for the meeting, he asked.

Yea, sure, no problem.

013 don't give a shit

So x, I am not very happy with your recent performance. Fuck you, mother. Be careful x, I OWN you, I can easily get rid of you. Oh, I thought you already had, what my productivity numbers are not up to par? Have I not programmed the inner circle of hell enought? Though your numbers are satisfactory, they are not up to your par. Really mother, you dumped me, put a restraining order against me, and you think that I should blindly follow you around like some lonely geek worshiping the ground his ex-girlfriend walks upon? I get the picture and understand my worth here. I don’t need to satisfy you, but to just do my new job. You weren’t even a very good girlfriend. It was always about you. You, you, you, your wants, your desires, your needs. What about me? I gave you everything you could possible dream and desire. I fucking ravished and killed for you, and you still dumped me. So the hell with you. I’ve about had it x. I don’t care. If you have a problem with my productivity and metrics, take it up with SisterHR. X, X, X, I think we have stepped off with the wrong foot here. You know I still need you, I still want you. It wasn’t you, it was me. I want us to be together again, I want us to make that perfect harmony. You and me taking on all that comes our way. All you need to do is prove to me that you still want me. Just take care of AB with your expertise. You know I always loved watching you work, the way you moved. Just thinking about it makes me want to take you. So just this one little thing, and we can go back to the way it use to be. I am so through with you, mother. I know you don’t mean that x. I know what you really think and how you feel. You want me, you need me. Not to fulfill my request is admitting that you are weak and that you lost. And you are not like that. You know actually nothing about me, mother. After all I opened up to you, all I’ve given to you, and you have no idea who I really am. It is sad, and you need to get away from me. HOW DARE YOU! I will have you x, I will have you at my feet, pleading for me to look at you. You will see, no one say no to me. Whatever mother. Next time please follow your established protocol, call and make an appointment before coming down here. Unfortunately I am busy keeping up my numbers and I can’t be bothered by such distractions. We will see x, see you come begging back to me on your hands and knees when I take away your bennies. Whatever, mother. I promise you x, you will die in the most hideous withdraws. A crumpled and destroyed man and I will stand over you laughing. Whatever, mother.

ah

I find myself at a particular crossroad. I have volumes of rants that want to be heard. From the season, to the Mayans, commercialism, gluttony, stupidity, and too many deaths. All fighting to get out, to ride the razor edge. Yet there is an emptiness inside of me. The darkness of apathy and “who gives a fuck”.  It restricts my fingers from typing and resounds in my head like thunder in the night sky. And for a moment I think, that opening my skull and letting it all out would remove this sadness, righting all that is wrong. Probably would, but who am I to say. Then again, the year end is upon us, hope and the dawning of a new day, a new year. A time for all those resolutions, the “best of 2012” list, and a reflection on what was lost. So much to look forward to, so much to reflect upon. It would be such a shame not to indulge is those temptations. Yet, temptation is such a wanton thing. Yes, I’ll have L7 with the pork fried rice, egg roll and wanton soup. Probably not the healthiest choice, as dietary advice would put it. But sometimes one just needs to give in to the excitement and attraction. Seeking fulfillment and passion, making the world yours. Or at least becoming a Revisionist Historian.....

Really, fortune cookie before the meal?

So it is the End of the World

Things I have learned:

Nobody gives a shit how hard YOU work.
Tomorrows are just another opportunity to get screwed over.
Money and the rich rule all.
Eat the rich.
The things that should be blogged, hurt too much to type.
Saying “Fuck you all” is not the right thing to do, yet sometimes it just feels so good.
Hope is eternal, so are the scars of torture.
If you think you are getting ahead, means that you missed something.
Preppies wear Polo, Preppers wear Camo.
The difference between you and me, is that I am not the TOTALLY Insane one.
Daylight and darkness makes no difference if your blind.
Find or do the stupidest think you can think of, it’s bound to be a hit TV show.
Being cursed really does suck.
That drugs and alcohol don’t mix, but psychos with guns do.
If it’s sensational bull shit crap, the News Media will feed it down your throats.
This life was way over rated, can I get a refund?
Worlds come and Worlds go, but sex is still number one.

whatever remix

Well hello there October, you are looking perky and crisp. Ahh..h..h.. another year down the tubes. It’s EVAL time again, and Corporate Mother is once again in a bad mood. She has to deal with all those pesky money grubbing 47%ers that believe in Fair Pay for Fair Work. Who do they really think that they are to ask for “entitlements”, or to even address her! But I am a good corporate whore. Even cast down to an inner circle of hell amongst the sodomites, I still eagerly await for my bennies. Just like a trained dolphin, jump, jump, jump…..


He’s your fish.

The Truth

I am soul stealer, a serial killer, a vampire, a familiar living off other's life-force, a parasite. I rape to satisfy my lust, leaving my host in the throes of death with a foggy absinthe smile.

I have taken different forms over the years. Early, as a photographer, with every snap of the shutter I stole a piece of the subject. With wonder and love, gentle and un-noticed I would slice a piece of their heart out and feed on their being. Making them mine. Possessing their nature, and capturing them forever, to become a part of me. I honed my skill like knives, to dissect thru the everyday and reveal their inner most personages, their fears, their dreams. There I lovingly feasted, sacrificing them for my desires. Then inexplicably, carved off a piece of their reflection. A souvenir to be nailed to a wall and exhibited, like an ear cut off my victims. It was a labor of love, yet I delved down there so deep, that I knocked on the door of the devils lair, and she invited me in.

Here I am in my full glory, a wolf amongst herded condemned sheep. Now a Specialist in my field, I wade thru the hapless victims, looking for the ones to satisfy my hunger. To quench my thirst, I have happily given myself over and accepted her invitation. Now but another data point in the devil’s metric, a rook to deal with the pawns. She aids me in a killing spree, as long as I stick by her commands. I am but an honored whore that has no conscience, I do it for the pleasure, as she enables my lifestyle. She beats me for her amusement, and I smile. For tomorrow she will hand me another client to feed on. There we will fuck beyond their hearts desires and I will steal their very presence. Screaming in pleasure and agony, they will beg me to take them higher. Feeding and devouring, I will brutally ravish them to their last breath. Sucking out their life and leaving an empty quivering bruised shell. And in their death I bathe in their blood sacrifice and gorge myself on payroll remains. But occasionally, as I watch the life flow from their eyes, and feel their strength become mine. I miss the days of wonder and love, when it wasn’t just about the orgasm check and wish I never touched that door. But then the blood rush comes over me and I reach out my hand for my pay and bennies, like an addict for his fix.

Finishing Last

So I am a whining asshole, nothing new there. I whine about my job (most American's hate their job when surveyed), my seemingly lack of what some call a life, the way people drive, the self-centerness (not me, how could anyone think I was self centered?) of others, the intolerance of society, etc, etc, etc…And I sometimes think that I am off base. I mean really, how can it truly be that bad? Take this weekend for instant. After working over 45 hour last week and only being paid for 40, thus having to “flex” (Yes, totally against labor laws) to cover what my corporate Mother requirements of me, I spent all day on Saturday doing a complete brake job (new rotors and pad all the way around) on a friend’s car to save her money. So you might think, nice guy, must have good karma. But what did that get me? Screaming phone calls in the middle of the night, threats from drug dealers, having to confiscate illegal stolen guns from stupid family members, drunken neighbors crashing their quad at 2am in the morning, cops, suicide threats, an ex-mother-in-law that calls to blame me for ALL the world’s evils, and a son that refuses to go to school because he doesn’t like the teachers. Just to come to work and have to deal with total incompetence and stupidity on the case of my now “Co-workers”. Ah Monday, it is good to see you again, my old friend. Whining, what was I thinking?

OFF

Things have slipped away, again. I find myself awashed on the rocky shore. Banged and bruised by the waves and the stone. Drenched and aching I stand to stare into the darkness and all that I find is the date staring back at me. And I shiver. So for tomorrow...September 11th, remember....

Remember, the senseless loss of so many lives and the suffering of the families.

Remember, it is a tragedy for ANY innocent person to die, especially due to political agendas.

Remember, religious fanaticism, whether right or left, is Wrong.

Remember, intolerance and injustice goes hand in hand.

Remember, there is no such thing as "your truth", or "their truth", but only "the truth". And it's supported by facts not lies.

Remember, hatred, bias, and prejudice brought the towers down.

Remember, we are better than that. This is America, the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave.

Remember, it's our right for each of us to be different, that makes us all Americans.

Remember 911

And remember, as the lyrics of so many songs have told us, love is the answer.

Die Motion

Good morning, X. Well, good morning Mother. You seem to have a particular glow, about you today. Well X,  you giving me those 12 hours yesterday, not to mention how you also made Goldie Locks quiver and the way she called your name. It made such a perfect triangle, I’m still tingling. Just thinking about it get me, well let’s just say Happy. Thank you Mother, you know I like to keep you and my Director ..happy. Which is exactly why I need to talk to you, X. Is something wrong, Mother? Wrong? That is such a mis-conceived and open ended word. I have decided that Goldie Locks will no longer need you as her report. That she will be focusing more on her departmental output potential and not so much on, let’s call it your input resolutions. Am I not satisfying her objectives, Mother? Exceptionally, but I find Goldie Locks has no additional requirements of your involvement in her product line. That you have completed your task and any addition forward objectivity is counterproductive to my wants. I feel she’s becoming too involved with your role here and not supportive of my provisions. Therefore, with the ranting of the consultants, Thrive, Cut and Die Consulting, I am transferring you over to the Client Latitude Inferasskissing Technical Service Department. Mother, that is a step in the wrong direction for me. X ,be careful of how you speak to me, beside there you go using that "wrong" word again. Think of it as a positive reduction advancement. Client Latitude Inferasskissing Technical Service Department could use your expertise in services integration and productivity. You will be directly reporting to D.B. Dante and working alongside of Weasel Boy and the Marlborough Man. Your dumping me down to an inner circle. Well with the ranting of T.C.D Consulting and our role reallocation initiative we feel that this will be a good match for you. Therefore the final discussion is to deploy you there.  

Mary

Last night I meet a girl named Mary. It's funny, I don't really know any other Marys. A somewhat odd occurrence that matched last night encounter. But it reminded me of a song I use to sing to my son when he was an infant, a song about a girl named Mary.

Mary had a little lamb....
a little veal,
and some ham.
Raised them all on her farm
and slaughtered them today.

Took them down in a truck
with some chickens and some ducks.
Had them all beheaded and gutted right away.

Mary had a big ass feast
IMPORTED BEER AND LOTS OF BEEF.
Picnicking and barbecuing on a Saturday.

just saying.....though my vegan friends aways cring when I bring that up. I don't know.....

502

Wow…so I broke the 500 views barrier. I guess that I should be, …celebrating? Maybe I should run for President? My popularity is just booming, someone should throw me a party. Five Hundred and Two (looks more impressive spelled out) times I’ve been eyeballed, yet very few comments, I AM so inspiring. Yet, when you look at it that way, it seems a little creepy. People just staring at me, objectifying me. Hey, my eyes are up here! Oh, …maybe this can qualifies for my “stalker”? Most of the women and some of the men I know have at one time or another had a stalker (and no, I am not talking about me ) of some (some scary, some creepy, others just amusing) kind.. Which outside of being a terrible commentary on today’s society, always made me feel rejected. That no one ever wants to stalk me.


502 views, I wonder if Levi’s will make a jean after me. I have the 502 blues…..

Jury Duty a long tale

I was called in for Jury Duty. Received the initial letter in the mail, I sent in the confirmation and received a reminder notice on when to show up. I really don’t have a great deal of issues with Jury Duty. My Corporate Mother will pay for my absence and upon return I will pay for the time I was gone with twice as much work. No, no, not a real issue. But after all, it is a civic responsibility, “an obligation and an honor” as they put it. The problem arose when I WENT to fulfill this honor. Anyway, they send this cute little brochure with FAQ, what to expect, the what’s and how’s of the Jury Duty experience. Which had a link to their web site, that told you the exact same (?? wtf !! ??) information. A deep and dark foreboding of things to come. And surprisingly it said that you are allowed to bring laptops and cell phone. Well as long as you didn’t look up any info on any case you may be assigned to or take any photos or movies. Part of the info was that this day would be more of a Jury “Selection” than actual “Duty”. We would be filling out assorted paperwork, watching an hour long movie on our responsibilities, and awaiting to be called. If called, we would be interviewed by a pair of Lawyers and speak to a Judge. If selected you would be asked to come back the next day to actually serve your “Duty” and be on a case. Otherwise one would just sit there and wait until they dismiss you. Something to totally look forward to. Excitement that give one goose bumps.

It was Wednesday, a Wednesday like many other Wednesdays this month. The day started off hot, 87 degree by 9am and was predicted to hit 94 degrees. I noticed on the instruction that they ask you to enter the Court House by the back entrance, where you will pass thru a metal detector and then proceed up to the fourth floor. They also mentioned that there was “limited” parking at the courthouse. Limited parking…..an understatement. Now, you are requiring people to attend Jury Duty, forcing them to come from across the county which incorporated 772 square miles 21 towns and 4 cities. Yet you do not have the parking at the NEW courthouse to accommodate the people who are being “honored” by this civic duty. GREAT planning! Well, that in hind sight, seemed to be the least of the issues to raise its ugly head. On this Wednesday I awoke late from my normal routine, not having to be in with my Corporate Mother at “O”dark thirty. I sat and ate a breakfast that I never get on week days. Enjoyed the sounds of the birds off my back deck and noted how peaceful and calm the morning seemed without the early rush to work commute. The ride down was uneventful. So I followed the instruction, actually found parking, and proceeded up to the fourth floor. Standing in line, the wait wasn’t obnoxiously long, but long enough to be a wait. As I progressed in line, I came to the door to enter and sign in. There on the door was a piece of paper hastily scotched taped to the wall that had hand written in marker on it “No Short Pants”. Entering, I was greeted by this official looking women who instructed me to find my name and insure all the information was right. “Excuse me mam, I’m wearing shorts” “What? Those are shorts, well shorts are unacceptable clothing for men” she said in a very rude tone. “Well, it would have been nice if that was mentioned somewhere”, I calmly responded. “It’s in the brochure” she snorted back. “No, No it’s not”, catching her in a blatant lie. (Now, I have to put in a disclaimer here. I was wearing shorts, but they were “nice” shorts. I hate to actually admit it, but I was so contemporary casual dressed, that they could have put me on the cover of an L.L. Bean catalog. Kaki cargo shorts down to my knees, a cotton twill short sleeve collar button shirt and ankle high ultralite hikers. All were clean and even pressed.) “Well, they are totally unacceptable” she snapped becoming increasingly rude and short. “Well, I don’t really understand that”, I simply replied. Looking around, some of the people there were wearing worn jeans and stained Tshirts, “if I wore a skirt like the women in front of me, would I then be appropriately dressed?” “Well, Well, …” “Or maybe a sun dress”, pointing at this very sweet women wearing a spaghetti strapped sundress that was low cut and very “revealing“ on top and so short you could bearly call it a dress. (Now don’t get me wrong, that outfit she was wearing definitely worked for me. Matter of fact I had already decided that she was going to be my Jury Duty Buddy, and I would be sitting next to her) Using it as only a comparison to how much bear skin I was showing. “Obviously that’s acceptable”. “Well, well, men wearing shorts are not acceptable, I didn’t make these rule, the judge did” . “But chances are, I won’t even see the judge today’. “It doesn’t matter, the judge doesn’t want men to be wearing shorts” she spat out with pure vehement.. “Fine” still being calm and not pissed. yet. “It would have been nice to have been informed of that before I drove the half hour to get here. So what about today, I have a full time job”. “YOUR NOT GETTING ANY CREDIT FOR TODAY (no pay for me), YOU are inappropriately dressed. YOU NEED TO LEAVE! That’s YOUR problem with your job”, she loudly proclaimed. “Fine”, thinking to myself that this is a prime example of why people don’t have faith in the American justice system. As I turn there was a court cop standing there who pointed to the elevator and said “elevator is that way". “Thanks” I said, not think too much about it. As I approached the elevator, the doors opened and a few more prospective jurors exited, one man wearing shorts. “Good luck” I commented as I boarded the elevator with the cop coming in behind me. The ride was short back to the first floor. The doors opened and two more cops were standing there, “hey, see you later”, I said walking by them. As I was walking out, it slowly dawned on me that all three cops were following me out. That they were actually escorting me out of the court house. That I was considered a threat for wearing shorts. What kind of syphilis fester brained, bigoted, dickhead of a judge has the nerve to decide what is fashionable correct for a juror to wear. Especially one that considers scantily clad women and men wear distressed dirty jeans acceptable but men in shorts not. What ever happen to “Impartial” justice. Sitting there making a six plus digit salary with his rich ass lawyer friends and political scumbag connections. Deciding that the little people should dress according to his weighty opinion. Did he forget that we the people put him there to determine justice not to be a fashionesta. Especially a guy that sits around in a black robe all day. Only some lonely StarWar Sith geek or some delusional SCA follower would believe that is fashionable. So if no shorts were the policy, then it should have been printed in the brochure and not some last minute whim tacked to the door. If I knew that was the policy I would have came dress as I do at work, Dior and all.

So that is how I got kicked out of Jury Duty. And will have to repeat the whole wonderful process again.