Hyppo and Critter: Flighty Politicans
A hot political season heralds the return of our favorite H&C politician, Wes Gull, and he’s got something to say.
A single gold star for me
The human race needed to survive so groups of individuals formed organizational units called “companies” that were then used to fuck everyone else. Viola! Stratification, and it was good.
Sure, not everyone survived or ended up better off but that was the whole point, wasn’t it?
Now a Virginia court has given companies just a bit more power. Yeah.
You’ve heard about Yelp? It’s one of the few places where disgruntled customers can strike back when they’ve been wronged.
The war between reviewers and companies is an old one. It turns out that businesses don’t like being criticized. In the old days reviewing was an actual profession and people were hired by newspapers to perform that function. In one case a food critic reported seeing an open can of beans in the kitchen in a restaurant that purported to only use fresh ingredients.
The restaurant flipped their lid.
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Viciously Malled
Hand in hand with my wife we strolled into a mall. Yes, this is a classic tale of horror.
We’d both spent time in our youth visiting this mall, which shall remain nameless. (Let’s be coy and say that it’s a little “square.”) We thought it would be interesting to visit it again.
We were insane.
I won’t say exactly how long it had been since my last visit, since that would date me, but it was approximately four score and seven years. Here’s to presidents that speak in code!
We circumvented the grounds but could not glean how to gain entry to the mall innards. So, we parked at one end and hacked our way through JC Penney. My tracking skills told me this would get us inside.
I was right!
Yanking my baby hard, I immediately veered left. As required by mall penal code, we pulled up at Mrs. Fields for some chocolate cookies a.k.a. “mall fuel.”
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A Frisky Constitutional
I thought the headline was so hilarious until I found out “constitutional” is decidedly not a word that means “enema.” Dammit!
Still, ever since colonic times we Americans have clung to fiercely held beliefs that we know to be self-evident. (Whew, that was a close one. For a moment there I almost didn’t bring this article down to the proper level.)
I may still be gin treatment but allow me to raise up my Tom Colonic and propose a wee toast:
O say NSA spying on through the night,
And so proudly assailed with your eyesight’s fast scheming,
With broad swipes and little regard to what was right,
O’er the sheeple you watched, and the porn they were streaming?Source: Tom B. Taker, lyricist
As we all know, those rights our founders held so dear were elegantly immortalized in the U.S. Constitution. Except for the stuff they got wrong, of course, like those not “free” being counted as only three-fifths of a person and women not having the right to vote.
I don’t want to hit you with an elementary civics lesson, but we all know the primary function of the Supreme Court Of The United States (SCOTUS) is to chisel away at the rights enumerated in that great document.
In other words, it’s finally time for me to weigh in on NSA monitoring, PRISM and more.
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Dead Blogging: Jury Rigged
My dream of live blogging from jury duty died today. Since I’m not live blogging, I guess that means this this post-dated post (PDP) is a form of dead blogging. I kinda like the sound of that.
Live blogging is the act of writing, blogging and/or tweeting about events happening in real-time and as they happen.
Therefore, the logical extension of that definition is when real-time blogging is delayed, it must be dead. This is sure to be a hit with procrastinators like me. Blawg ya laterz! Rawr!
Without further ado, here is my dead blogging feed from day one of jury duty:
7:40am – The luxurious juror parking lot is blocks away from the Courthouse. After walking several blocks we finally pass by the lot where the judges, attorneys and staff get to park.
7:45 – Trudging up the steps to the Courthouse. Why do Courthouses always have to be higher than every other building in sight? I think it’s about justice and equality, with the Courthouse being just a bit more “equal” than everywhere else.
7:46 – Four human bodies can’t fit in the doorway at the same time. Noted.
7:47 – Handed a clipboard by a perky and very nice looking – OMFG!!! Turd buckets!!! Look at the size of that fucking form!
7:49 – Trying to write on my lap since no surface is provided.
7:51 – Analyzing the section about what to do if your employer offers jury duty pay. Does not compute. Where’s the checkbox for “The douchenozzle hates freedom?”
7:52 – Trying to grapple with an essay question regarding my feelings towards alcohol. Wondering if I’ll get in trouble for writing, “Hells, yeah!”
8:05 – Wondering if the world would come to an end if orientation actually started on time.
8:08 – Being told by the jury coordinator that today is going to be more “chaotic” than normal and that the room isn’t big enough to hold us all so we’ll have to “snuggle up” with our neighbor. Of course my “neighbor” is already touching me and, for bonus, has a lovely “I just threw up” smell.
8:20 – Jury instructions consist of 30 seconds of useful information and 19 minutes and 30 seconds of trying to convince me to give up the whopping $10 a day I’m earning for going a day without work. The word “donate” is being bandied about. The phrase “cold dead fingers” leaps unbidden to my cerebral cortex. I squirm in my uncomfortable chair and glare at the jury assistant.
8:21 to 8:41 – The video. ‘Nuff said. Can’t … speak … must … hang … on.
8:45 – Here comes da judge! What? A stand up routine? Ok. Perhaps this will be fun after all.
8:47 – Fuck. Now the judge is all serious and shit.
9:00 – The jury assistant is explaining more rules. No phones, no guns, no knives, and, this is a verbatim quote, “no blogging.”
9:01 to 9:06 – More stuff about important juror concerns like parking and weapons.
9:07 – There will be a slight delay as staff disappears to figure out what the hell might happen today. Apparently today is especially wonky.
9:08 – Now we’re being told what restrooms we can use. I want my mommy!
9:09 – They have commenced with the reading of The Long List of Numbers. This, of course, has been scientifically proven to put jurors into an “unbiased” state.
9:15 – What the hell? They didn’t call my number. I’m told I can leave.
9:17 – Sardines swim towards a small opening known as The Door. I hate everyone.
9:19 – Now I know why I hate “The Cloud.” I’m at the rear edge of a human-puffed mushroom cloud. Why am I the only non-smoker in a four-block radius?
9:30 – Finally! I’m safely at someplace where I can relax and have some fun. Work! (Now I know I’m sick.)
4:45 to 4:50pm – Calling the automated hotline. It takes them five whopping minutes to get to my number. I’m on deck for tomorrow.
Stay tuned for more dead blogging entries mere hours and days after they actually happened…
Shouts from the Abyss 
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