Mr. Smith Goes To Jooree Duty

by John Smith

25 October 2004

Greetings dear children of the corn. It's your beloved brother Juancito de Smith reporting to you from the belly of the beast, la ciudad de Nueva York Yo. You know what, dear cats in the cupboard? I liken the United States of America to the public restroom of the world and my dear City of New York do I liken to the stopped up toilet in the aforementioned public restroom. Breathes there, would you say, the faintest hint of truth to this? I say yes -- and that most resoundingly.

Actualment, I'm being most unfair. New York is still the world leader in all things cutting edge, pfiff und mödevoll. Why, we have the country's most avant garde Starbucks and Barnes & Noble and Duane Reade Pharmacies. Also, if you've never seen one of our very own Mexcrement illegals scampering down the street to its illegal restuarant job and/or just plain old promenading resplendent in its Carhartt and Gap finery then, well, you really can't lay to claim to having lived. Start planning your visit now. If you come here you will be a hero. Why not? Everyone else apparently is a hero now, post 9/11 and Christopher Reeve snuff. But I digress.....

This week did events conspire to place your Li'l Johnny boy squarely in the bowels of this city's infrastructure. I was summoned to report for jury duty. After a few deferrals and rain checks I was up against it. I had to appear and appear I did. If we're talking all things beast and belly then just put me down as having ridden a huge wriggling syph' spirochete rodeo style in the belly of said beast.

After sitting around for a few hours in the waiting area I was called with a group of about 70 others and we were told to make our way across the street to the criminal courts building. Well, let Herr Von Smith tell you this: Don't any of you even dare to get arrested on criminal charges in the City of New York lest you wind up in our penal system.

The criminal courts building was infested with groidroloids beyond all ken. It's one thing to think you know something, to be acquainted with a thing on an intellectual non empirical level, but quite another thing entirely to come face to face with it. Johnny will give you an example. Years ago, when I was a dipshit rock and roll musician, my band wound up in Paris, France. We were going to record an album in a studio there and the day before the sessions we decided to drop by the studio to say hello. Now, we all know that French people, male and female, kiss each other hello and goodbye. I'd seen enough movies, read enough books. When we arrived and were speaking with the engineer, some other male frogs came and went and they were kissing each other to beat the band. I was sitting there thinking "Oh Jesus, we're in a den of shirttail lifters!". Actually, pretty funny eh? What a rube I was. I point this up because we ALL know that groidroloids commit the most crime per groidkopf etc. but to actually see the staggering degree to which they people the law courts is beyond belief. Every floor was packed to the ebony gills with blacks. Sullen, lurking, obese, menacing, loitering, leering knuckle draggers all. And that's just the family and Freunden of the accused!!

Next up, we were ushered into a courtroom proper. Presiding there was a judge. In front of him was the usual layout of lawyers and court officers and (to my surprise) the two defendants. The judge went on in a Mr. Rogers type gentle and sensitive way to welcome and thank us and then describe the case. It seems these two "gentlemen" (judge's honest to Gott Wörter!) were brothers and were accused of rape and sodomy upon some young lady. These two animals were obese and be-cornrowed and dressed in MTV finery. Call your Li'l Johhny Boy old fashioned but I don't think I'd dress that way for my big day in court.

The judge (who by now was getting on my nerves no end what with his Mr. Rogers act) introduced the principals and asked did we know any of them. Oh yeah, I think I recognized the Brothers Groid from my wine tasting group. Ditto for their female dune coon lawyer. She actually wasn't half bad a looker. I'd not have thrown her out of my tent for getting falafel crumbs on my prayer mat but....again I digress. Listen, I was sitting there boiling to think that life's time and breath were being wasted on this charade for these pieces of shit. I was thinking of the billion groids out in the hall. I was thinking about all the tuberculine spores I was snarfing. I was thinking about the fucking enormity of the mess. I was thinking about the victim. What was her race (if she were groid I didnae give a damn)?. If she turned out to be white I'd have had to have been removed on a stretcher, such would have been my apoplexy. Li'l Johnny was already in a lather and with the power invested in my celtic heart I done deemed myself unfit to be fair and balanced in the execution of my judgement. In short, I wanted to avail myself of the opportunity to speak with the judge in chambers.

We were cut loose for lunch and upon return, I was the first picked to speak with the judge to tell him why I did not think I could be fair. Silly me, I thought this meant I'd speak to the judge and perhaps the lawyers at most. I was led into his chambers and was not prepared for the tableau. There sat the judge and the lawyers AND the Groidfendants AND their groid family members. You want to talk "lather"? Li'l Johnny was a can of Barbasol vivant! I wanted to scream "Since we're ALL here, where's the victim?" Anyroad, the judge bade me sit. I sat. He asked me why I didnae think I could be unbiased in this case. I told him I'd answered yes to two of the ten questions we'd been given upon arrival that would preclude us. The reasons were under the umbrella of morals and ethics. He asked me could I tell them what these reasons were. At this point I looked at the Brothers Groid and dear readers, call me prejudiced but these two scions of Bonzo were giving me the de rigueur groidular menacing stare. I was having none of it. I was daydreaming about their heads on poles displayed in the park across the street........where was I? Oh yes, at this point I told El Honcho that I wished to speak with him private like. He said (ever so gently) "No, please, to the best of your ability Mr. ....... (damned if he didn't call me by name in front of the Rainbow Coalition) tell us the reason." Your Li'l Johnny at this point squared himself, looked straight into the yellowed eye whites of said glowereing Groidfendants and said loud und proud, "Racial". There were mini gasps all around. I shite thee not. Then the judge asked your Johnny Boy, "And given this reason Mr. .......... do you still think you could be fair and impartial to these two "gentlemen" (he called them gentleman dear readers)?" I again looked upon the scions of Bonzo (upon whose noses you could by now have fried a pork rind, such was their MTV rage) and said loud und sehr proud, "Abb So Loot Leee not." Without missing a kosher beat, the judge said, "you are excused from this case".

As I exited the room I heard the Famille Groid sputter and hiss. What a bad anti-public TV anti-MTV anti-Billie Holliday anti-Beautiful Mosaic motherjumper I was! Mein heart was pounding like clappers and I realized I was amped up. As I stood in the outer hall waiting for my jury pass to be signed I heard the judge say to the bailiff, "Under no circumstances is this man to be considered for criminal cases. Civil ONLY!" Why do you suppose that is, dear readers? Because the Gottverdamnten criminal court system is balls to the wall groid! I'd say that 98% of the criminal cases heard in NY daily are groid replete and your Li'l Johnny is persona non grata. Ain't ye proud??

I cooled my heels for the rest of the day and plowed through James Ellroy's wife's book, The Ticket Out. Not half bad, give it a go. After a bit we were cut loose and told to report back at 9:00 Uhr the next morning.

So, day #2 came and I was called for a civil case. We were nineteen of us sat in a small, cramped and well lighted back room. The lawyers spewed their condescension about some illegal immigrant suing a co-op board and a real estate company for having made her slip on a wet floor ($$$$$ yawn). Your Johnny was also girded to be most unfair and he wanted out toot sweet. After the spiel, we were told to break for 15 mins., stay seated, go out, do what you want to do but return in 15 minutes. I had a coat and a bag and my reading glasses and was attempting to corral said belongings when I noticed that the black guy who was seated next to me was now standing and making no effort to go around my knees in order to exit our row of seats. Behind him stood another black guy. I folded my knees inward and sideways as one does in a movie theatre or airplane when the other person wants to leave. This guy then said to me (in Bob Marley patois) "Are you going to move?" I pressed my knees in further and really at this point still thinking nothing untoward about the unfolding matter I said, "Oh, sorry, not leaving just yet, go ahead". He then said "No, you gotta move."

Dear readers, I looked at him and thought why does he have to be black? Am I really an A-hole? Am I just looking for trouble? I wished he weren't black, truly. Then, the groid behind him said, "Gentlemen (clearly the most abused word in the English language) make up YO mind!" To which your Johnny said, "Oh, my mind's made up, I'm not moving. I'll move when I decide to move, you fucking jerkoff." Up front, the paper shuffling lawyers looked over at us and one of them gulped. I continued to pack up my stuff and then I split.

After the break, the Groid next to me was doing his damndest to rattle me. He was sitting splay legged and elbows akimbo and snorting and snuffling and staring at me. Your Li'l Johnny was full up at this point. Said groid told the lawyer (when asked could he be fair) such a brilliant thing as this: " you have to hear both sides of the story before you can decide who's right and who's wrong." Can you blame your Johnny Boy for being fed up at this point? Imagine me and this guy going over fine points of jurisprudence over a bucket of White Castle burgers. Anyroad, I spoke with the lawyers before lunch and told them I simply could not be fair and could not bear another minute sitting beside Patty Cake the gorilla. They were nice about it. They asked if I minded sitting next to the gorgeous blonde Aryan goddess who was on my other elbow. I told them I was in love with her already.

JOHN SMITH

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