Rules rules rules. Fuck rules. There was a huge line at the security check-in, where court officers were confiscating cell phones (you can get it back at the end of the day) and telling people to throw away their food and drinks. People were pissed. They were in sheer disbelief that a court officer would have the balls to tell them they can’t bring a fountain Coke into the building. And how dare you take my cell phone!

These people, by the way, were mostly dressed in shorts, tshirts, jeans, even tank tops. Fucking slobs. Luckily for them, the court won’t turn someone away for being dressed like an idiot. Being charged with contempt of court would be a huge pain in the ass. Because then you’d have to come back - only this time you wouldn’t be in the jury box.

Once you get inside, there’s a lot of waiting. Sitting around on hard wooden benches and chairs while counting the hours. Got jury duty anytime soon? Better bring a book. Or two.

And how do adults act when they are forced to wait around in silence? Like little fucking children, that’s how. It’s really not that hard to understand. You’re in court. There are cases going on all around you. Life or death shit. And some of that shit is in the newspapers. So the next rule is: No fucking talking. The court officials can’t have their jurors discussing any ongoing trials, and the easiest way to make that happen is to prevent them from talking. Well it sounds easy anyway.

You know what happens when you tell a 3 year old to sit still and keep quiet? They can’t stand it. They giggle and jabber and fidget. Just like a Philadelphia juror. To me, sitting still for a day while reading a good book isn’t that difficult. It’s actually kind of nice to have a little peace and quiet - to get a break from my stressful workweek. To the average juror, it’s torture.

Throughout the day, people were laughing and chatting, and eating and sleeping. Somehow, several people managed to sneak their cell phones into the building (shit - if they can sneak cell phones in, does that mean people could sneak weapons in too?). So cell phones were ringing every few minutes. And people snuck food in too. Some fat chick pulled a family size bag of chips out of her oversized purse and chowed the fuck down.

So after you’ve waited several hours, you enter the jury selection process. That’s when they choose 14 people for a trial out of your group of 50 or so. During this process they ask a lot of questions. Things like - would you believe a police officer’s testimony over that of anyone else just because of their profession? Can you understand that just because someone is in custody does not mean they are guilty - that they are innocent until proven guilty? Can you set aside your personal prejudices and give your opinion on this case simply based on the evidence presented?

Several people saw these questions as their opportunity to get out of serving.

Judge: “Would you believe the testimony of a police officer over someone else just because they are a police officer?”
Childish weasel of a juror: “Yep.”
Judge: “What if I asked you to set aside the officer’s profession and treat their testimony just like the testimony of anyone else. Could you follow that instruction?”
Childish weasel of a juror: “Nope.”
Judge: “So you’re telling me you always believe what an officer says simply because of their job?”
Childish weasel of a juror: “Yes.”
*Judge winces, knowing that the juror is just trying to get out of serving.*

This happened a few times with various questions. One guy even claimed he would be unable to discuss the case with the other jurors during deliberations - because after that conversation he would be unable to form his own opinion. He’d be too influenced and intimidated by the other jurors.

You know what? How about you act like an adult and follow the judge’s instructions? This is Philadelphia. Birthplace of the Declaration of Independence. Other countries don’t give their citizens things like the right to a trial by a jury of your peers, the right to a speedy trial, or the right to decline to testify in court. This is the fucking judicial system. How about you quit making excuses, quit trying to sneak food and cell phones into the courthouse, and quit acting like a fidgety, giggling child.

Listen - jury duty sucks. It really really sucks. But let’s all agree that we all share the same obligation to serve on a jury from time to time. Let’s show up when summoned, wait quietly as we meet our responsibility, and act like adults for one simple fucking day.

I’ve got the Pahlaniuk book Rant to finish and I’m a couple issues behind with Sports Illustrated. I’m thinking tomorrow will be pretty laid back. If all goes well, I’ll waste my day waiting and waiting - then I’ll get to go home and be done with it. Worst case scenario, I’ll get picked for some bullshit trial that lasts several days (or longer). I’ll cross my fingers. Wish me luck.

I don’t suppose there’s much I can do aside from waiting it out. Any ideas?

It all started with a little fracas at a bar. I have no idea why anyone would mess with this dude. He’s fucking tough. Check out how cops say it went down…

The cops showed up and saw some pushing and shoving. Jenkins says one of the dudes tried to grab his chain - maybe trying to steal it or even just trying to choke him with it. So he was pissed. He started swinging. Seriously, Jenkins was willing to take on five dudes at a bar. He knew he could take them.

The cops flipped out, yelling for him to stop. He didn’t listen. Jenkins threw one more punch, so the cops tased him. Let me repeat that. The cops saw six guys in a fight and they decided to tase the one guy they thought could do some real damage. The fight was five against one and they knew the five dudes didn’t stand a chance. So Jenkins got tased. (Insert your own “don’t tase me bro” joke here.)

Game over, right? Nope.

Jenkins got up after being tased and fucking took off running. The cops had to chase him for a block and a half before they finally caught up with him and arrested him.

How would you like to go up against that guy on a football field? Willing to take on five dudes in a brawl, withstands being tased, and still manages to sprint a couple blocks to escape the cops. Yep. Genuine badass.

(Hat tip Joe The - http://thefinestkindofpork.blogspot.com/)

It happened in high school. My sophomore year. Just after lunch, I went to the restroom to take a piss before heading back to class. The men’s room was lined with urinals - the kind that are full length from chest height down to a drain in the floor.

There was only one other guy in the restroom at the time. Class was about to start.

I sauntered up to a urinal, whipped it out and started letting it flow. The other guy was pissing a couple urinals over to my left. He mumbled something incoherently. He had a snide tone to his voice like he was mocking me. I was a little flustered by it. Was he checking out my cock? I ignored him.

A second later, he repeated himself - this time much louder. “You’re pissing on yourself!”

I looked down and aimed up. There it was, the infamous split stream. I had two streams of piss coming from my dick - now both of them hitting porcelain. Before adjusting my aim, one of the streams had apparently been hitting the left leg of my jeans.

I finished my piss and kept my head down in embarrassment. When I finally looked up again, I was alone in there. The bell rang. I was late.

I washed my hands and checked myself out in the mirror. It was obvious what had happened. I could have made an excuse - like I spilled a soda on myself or accidentally splashed myself in the sink. But even if it were true, high school kids wouldn’t let such an obvious opportunity for ridicule someone pass by.

So excuses weren’t an option. How about a cover-up? I was wearing a t-shirt with a flannel long sleeve on top. This was the 90’s after all. I took off my flannel and held it in front of me as I walked out of the restroom. I figured it looked like I took off my shirt because I was warm.

As I entered the room for my next class, no one really seemed to notice I was late. Kids were still chatting, waiting for the teacher to start. I made my way to my desk, set down my books, and kept my shirt on my lap, draped over my legs.

I could smell the piss wafting up, but it really wasn’t enough for anyone else to pinpoint.. Every few minutes through the rest of the class, I peeked down to see if it was drying up. Sure enough, the wet spot went away within maybe half an hour.

I have no idea what caused the splitstream. It was probably just a fluke. But to this day, I am always very very cautious when starting up - making sure I hit porcelain and nothing else.

I said “Where you headed?”

Dude laughed, thinking I was being sarcastic and said, “Yeah it’s gonna be a good game tonight.”

I don’t follow baseball. I know the Phillies are the current champs and all, but the sport is just fucking boring. Apparently my neighbors had tickets and were headed to the ballpark. I guess it was obvious to everyone but me.

At least the guy thought I was trying to be funny and didn’t openly mock me for being completely oblivious. Or maybe he thought I was being a moron and he decided to be nice about it.

Thanks for contacting me! I think preying on the weak of mind is a zesty enterprise! How about this. YOU give me $1000, then, later, I will give YOU $1,000,000!!! All I need is your SS#, DOB, name, and…. well, $1000. Also: I am the King of Spain. I PLAN TO MURDER YOU SOON. Please take advantage of this opportunity, as it will not be available for long! I really hope to hear from you! Please keep this between you and I, as hope to complete this transaction in confidence. I think you are good looking. I am a Prince in Africa. I WANT TO EAT YOUR TESTICLES. I want to make you rich, however, I also want to tickle you into submission. DO YOU LIKE CEREAL? I think that puns are the highest form of humor! I am looking forward to hearing from you. If you answered yes to any of these questions, you may have an enlarged prostate, which could require lengthy surgical procedures! Painful and bloody surgery could cost you thousands of dollars, as this opportunity will assure you $999,000! It will also assure you a serious ball-licking, as well as a healthy prostate and murder! I hope you have pancakes for breakfast tomorrow, as I plan to have a squirrel throwing contest with your mother, in which the top-prize is the peanut you use for a brain. Toodles. Hope all is well. You are a salad bar!

Of course - responding to spam emails is a bad idea because it confirms for the spammer that your address is valid and current. Maybe you could set up a dummy email account just for this purpose (Gmail allows you to send from multiple addresses).

I didn’t understand a word he said because of my headphones. Too bad, because I bet it was hilarious. 17-year-old high school brats are so very clever. In retrospect I’m glad I didn’t hear it. I don’t need that added stress in my life - being completely aware that I was mocked by pimply faced nobodies. For all I know, they were shouting words of encouragement. Starting now, that’s how I will choose to remember the event.

It reminded me of something that happened a few weeks ago. A coworker and I were leaving our suburban office building at the end of a long work day, walking toward our cars. We were in the middle of some inane bullshit conversation (”Great weather we’re having.” “Yep.”), when we were interrupted by a couple of bratty skateboarders.

The boys were doing some unimpressive ollies in our office parking lot. They were kind of nerdy - probably 13 or 14-years-old. I’m sure my khakis and long-sleeve button-up camouflaged the fact that I used to look and act like them. At work, I’m just another cog in the machine. The coworker chatting with me is a bit younger than I am and he probably looked a bit cooler that day. I think he was wearing jeans and an un-tucked shirt.

The kids interrupted our conversation by shouting “Are you gangsters?!” Kids are fucking idiots. You can quote me on that. My coworker responded: “Excuse me?”

Why would anyone consider engaging asshole kids in conversation? They should be treated the way conservatives view the homeless - ignored and forgotten. The rest of this conversation took place as we continued walking toward our cars. The kids’ voices got louder as we got further away so they could make sure we heard them.

Asshole kid: “Are you a gangster?!”
Coworker: “Yeah, sure.”
Asshole kid (louder): “How are you a gangster?”
Coworker: “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Asshole kid (now yelling because we’re so far away): “What makes you a gangster?”
Coworker (mumbling as he gets into his car): “Okay this conversation is going nowhere.”

As my coworker shut his car door, the one kid addressed the other kid, yelling: “That guy looks like Bam Margera!” “Hahahaha”

I don’t know what made the whole interaction so funny to them. They just laughed and laughed as we each got in our cars and drove away. It’s still somewhat unclear if they were mocking us or just being silly. Whatever.

One thing that crossed my mind in both of these events is this: If I were genuinely bothered during either of these encounters, I could have done something about it. I could have insulted them. I could have engaged them in conversation and said some truly hurtful things - the kinds of things that would make them lose sleep at night. But they’re just kids.

Even a 17-year-old cruising through South Philly with a megaphone in hand is just a dumb fucking kid who knows jack shit about life. Kids say stupid shit. They make mistakes and look foolish. I was like them 15 years ago. And 15 years from now they’ll interact with cocky little pieces of shit. It’s the cycle of life. How could I let that bother me. It’s just the way things are.