I think I want to write something. It’s kind of a
pain in the ass though, because I don’t have anything
to say.

We could talk about the uh, Alberto Gonzalez vs.
honest government prosecuters in in leu of Karl with a
‘K’ Rove debacle. It’s actually kind of exciting to
think of that prick Rove being blendered on the stand,
under oath and his little dog Cheney too.

Now that I’ve testified under oath in a federal court,
I’m feeling pretty savvy about the entire judicial
spectrum. I’m an expert. Need me to interpret the
law for ya? Negotiate a contract? Give a key note
address on the constitution? Solve your divorce?

I now comprehend the entirety of the law.

I have mastered this domain.

From now on, whenever legal matters are in play, I’m
to be referred to as “The Shit”.

I’ve consulted with a tailor and robes are being
fashioned.

Among the privileges I’ve seen fit to bestow upon
myself:

1) I can now literally waltz (and I will) into any
court of law and pronounce judgement on the case being
tried.

2) I’m allowed to assail and strike anyone in the
courtroom. Whether it be plaintiff or defendent,
juror or judge, bailiff or custodian. I will invoke
this right with great vengeance and violence and without
hesitation.

3) My personal realm of jurisprudence will extend to
all corners of the earth, it’s oceans and the media.
I can, and will intervene whenever and wherever I feel
it necessary. Look for me on TV bitch slapping
various celebrity lawyers like Nancy Grace and that
dickhead who defended Scott Peterson.

Here’s a few other things I’ve mastered:
The art of recording a drumkit.
Chopsticks. Kinda.
How to clean a bathroom pretty fuckin fast.
I just committed to a monthly donation to the ASPCA.
Just now. Really.
Shopping at the 7-11. Go ahead, ask me if they have
it.
I also commited to a coffee table I found on craig’s
list…….
Arguing with wine clerks. Saint Nick wanted a little
rematch tonight I guess.
Cats. As much as one can.
Grazing instead of any proper dinner.
Mac & cheese.
Oh well, recording just about anything.
International commerce and computer
forensics/diagnostics.
Nano technology.
Sandwiches. Seriously. Not as good as Sean but.
Distinguishing between good and bad, right and wrong
and one of these things is not like the other.
Judging character.
There’s just something about Laura Diaz on channel 2.
She’s an insipid Barbie Doll with a pull string tied
to a loop hidden by her bra strap, but well, sorry.

Ok, Let’s move on.

Imagine four corners filled by the following. A
middle aged catholic wine abusing woman, an early
thirties Mexican American and all around sports
enthusiast, a six foot four, middle thirties mildly
bipolar sonafabitch who actually does that fantasy
leaugue stuff, whatever that is, and me. The three (besides me) following March Madness by the fucking second.

Me, not so much.

We all eat lunch together. Needless to say, far too
much of our mealtime interaction and conversation is
dominated by this vapid detritus. I mention Rove may
have to testify under oath and the three of us who
don’t give a mad fuck about March madness search each
others faces while they discuss the demise of Duke and
speculate on the outcome of UCLA vs. Kansas.

I watched the end of that game by the way. I gather
that UCLA has a penis that is aprox. 1/16th of an inch
longer than that of Kansas. I never would have
thought that a city could be better hung than a state.

I also watched the end of that Ohio vs. Tennessee
game. Interesting that although the outcome was as
leak proof as a duck’s ass, the stands were at least a
third empty.

Mirth burgeoned in my chest as I realized I wasn’t the
only American who didn’t really care despite being
entertained by a brief glimpse of the contest.

It didn’t take long for me to understand, with my
newfound judicial prowess and abundant epiphanies
involving college basketball, that I was indeed better
than everyone else. This comforts me.

Drinks for my friends.