Pff. Weak. Here's how real men do it in Afghanistan.
What made me happy today?
- Thread starter big soft moose
- Start date
I'm pretty sure that's Photoshop. ;-)
But even if it's real, I don't know that much about cars. (No-one can know everything about everything). So I'm happy to pay an expert to do it properly, rather than do it myself and stuff it up. ;-P
But even if it's real, I don't know that much about cars. (No-one can know everything about everything). So I'm happy to pay an expert to do it properly, rather than do it myself and stuff it up. ;-P
You can do it! I just hit 72 and have no desire. I'm having a little whiskey and some wine and can't believe how good everything tastes. All the notes and shit I thought I knew about I can actually taste again. Never lighting up again. If I don't cheat once I can declare victory... so that's what I'm doing!
You all are making excellent decisions, I have to say. I lost my uncle to the age of 48 because of tobacco, whom I miss a lot. He smoked something like a pack a day, if memory serves. He tried to quit several times but couldn't do it.
My Dad was a heavy smoker as well. He quit pretty quickly when he became a radiologist at the local hospital and witnessed what those things do to you through the magic of xrays. He also sold his sports motorcycle and made it clear that he'd never agree or approve of my siblings and I owning one.
Sorry to hear about your uncle, ps102.
I lost a grandfather and an uncle to smoking-related diseases as well. Both my parents also smoked heavily, but I and my sisters nagged them to quit.
And writing things?
How funny! I thought you were way younger than me. Were you Class of '72 as well? But everyone is young here.
I'm glad your enjoyment of good food and drink is increasing. That's the way to think of it, focus on what you're gaining by quitting and will continue to gain.
The story can now be told. I was served papers to appear in court as a witness in a murder trial.
Which, I hope you might imagine, was a complete surprise.
Back in 2013, one of our rent houses was burglarized. I never heard anything from the police and assumed it was yet another unsolved case.
Fast forward to a few months ago and a strange call from a lawyer, asking if I could say anything about the character of someone I'd never heard of. Nope, can't help you, have a great day.
This past Tuesday a Baker Street Irregular (my youngest son) sent word by electronic post that a Sheriff's Deputy had papers to serve. The Deputy was headed to my location. It was a kick in the gut.
Flee? Heck no. I was quite eager to fight any unfair allegation the papers made. I didn't want any delay in getting whatever unwholesome soufflé a court might be dishing up.
Funny thing, too. I shouldn't have had such an emotional reaction. I hate to sound like the Saturday Night Live church lady, but I'm pretty squeaky clean. Which, I'm thankful to recognize, is like most everyone else. We're civilized.
I had to pass an FBI background check for work a couple of months back. A year ago, I had Federal and State background checks run. I'm not just clean, I'm clean and documented to be so by some of the most qualified and professional investigators this side of Mrs. Hudson's 221-B.
The Deputy arrived, asked for ID, and served me.
Then we chatted for the next 30 minutes or so about odd crimes in the area. Nice guy. We bonded. As in made friends, not bail.
I called the lawyer's number on the subpoena and learned I was to testify as a character witness for a gentleman who allegedly died by the defendant's hand. I'd never heard of the accused.
His victim was the person a lawyer queried me about a few months ago, about whom I still know nothing.
This morning, the defendant bargained a guilty plea for a 20 year prison sentence. The trial will never happen. My subpoena no longer has any meaning, a fact I will confirm in writing.
But why was I issued a summons with zero knowledge?
My best theory, based on absolutely no facts, is that the victim's criminal history couldn't be introduced as evidence. Presumably, I would explain I was connected to the deceased by his imprisonment for burglary of a habitation I happened to own. The jury would learn of that conviction from me, not from evidence. I think that was what I was intended to reveal, not any personal knowledge of the victim's character.
I would have been on the witness stand to testify by side effect. That's my best unfounded guess.
Less unfounded is a more chilling realization. We are, each of us, connected by unseen threads to the sublime and the ridiculous. We perceive freedom but actually live in a web of both lies and heroism, the flawed fabric of life.
One thread is all it takes. Let one connection transition from the ethereal to the corporeal and our lives change.
That, I've discovered, was the best part of being served to testify as a defense witness in a murder trial.
In that web of both villainy and valor there is more than danger. There are writing prompts.
I need those. Those tangled webs we weave have a use.
Which, I hope you might imagine, was a complete surprise.
Back in 2013, one of our rent houses was burglarized. I never heard anything from the police and assumed it was yet another unsolved case.
Fast forward to a few months ago and a strange call from a lawyer, asking if I could say anything about the character of someone I'd never heard of. Nope, can't help you, have a great day.
This past Tuesday a Baker Street Irregular (my youngest son) sent word by electronic post that a Sheriff's Deputy had papers to serve. The Deputy was headed to my location. It was a kick in the gut.
Flee? Heck no. I was quite eager to fight any unfair allegation the papers made. I didn't want any delay in getting whatever unwholesome soufflé a court might be dishing up.
Funny thing, too. I shouldn't have had such an emotional reaction. I hate to sound like the Saturday Night Live church lady, but I'm pretty squeaky clean. Which, I'm thankful to recognize, is like most everyone else. We're civilized.
I had to pass an FBI background check for work a couple of months back. A year ago, I had Federal and State background checks run. I'm not just clean, I'm clean and documented to be so by some of the most qualified and professional investigators this side of Mrs. Hudson's 221-B.
The Deputy arrived, asked for ID, and served me.
Then we chatted for the next 30 minutes or so about odd crimes in the area. Nice guy. We bonded. As in made friends, not bail.
I called the lawyer's number on the subpoena and learned I was to testify as a character witness for a gentleman who allegedly died by the defendant's hand. I'd never heard of the accused.
His victim was the person a lawyer queried me about a few months ago, about whom I still know nothing.
This morning, the defendant bargained a guilty plea for a 20 year prison sentence. The trial will never happen. My subpoena no longer has any meaning, a fact I will confirm in writing.
But why was I issued a summons with zero knowledge?
My best theory, based on absolutely no facts, is that the victim's criminal history couldn't be introduced as evidence. Presumably, I would explain I was connected to the deceased by his imprisonment for burglary of a habitation I happened to own. The jury would learn of that conviction from me, not from evidence. I think that was what I was intended to reveal, not any personal knowledge of the victim's character.
I would have been on the witness stand to testify by side effect. That's my best unfounded guess.
Less unfounded is a more chilling realization. We are, each of us, connected by unseen threads to the sublime and the ridiculous. We perceive freedom but actually live in a web of both lies and heroism, the flawed fabric of life.
One thread is all it takes. Let one connection transition from the ethereal to the corporeal and our lives change.
That, I've discovered, was the best part of being served to testify as a defense witness in a murder trial.
In that web of both villainy and valor there is more than danger. There are writing prompts.
I need those. Those tangled webs we weave have a use.
But was the murder victim (whom the defense, I presume, was going to argue was a low, mean character Who Was Asking for It), the one who burglarized your property? What a good joke it they'd got you on the stand and you'd had to tell the honest truth that you knew nothing whatever about it!
Yes, the murder victim was the burglar from 2013. I have no idea why the now-admitted murderer killed him.
Be careful out there. Rotten people walk among us.
Be careful out there. Rotten people walk among us.
This wasn’t jury duty. It was a subpoena. I would have been a witness, not a juror.
I always respond to jury duty notices. I figure if I’m ever on trial I would want engaged jurors.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter whether I want to serve or not. Both by occupation and mindset, most lawyers wouldn’t want me. I firmly believe in the state’s burden to prove its case, and I also work in an environment defense attorneys might not like.
Everyone has something to complain about. Sigh.
I always respond to jury duty notices. I figure if I’m ever on trial I would want engaged jurors.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter whether I want to serve or not. Both by occupation and mindset, most lawyers wouldn’t want me. I firmly believe in the state’s burden to prove its case, and I also work in an environment defense attorneys might not like.
Everyone has something to complain about. Sigh.
Class of 1997. I was referring to 72 hours.
Counting down, eh? Guess my original perception was correct.
A complete week without smoking. The call remains, though it's gradually weakening. The power of the dark side is strong.
Day 5 for me... the only 5 days in the last 30 years that I haven't smoked. I have a feeling the initial high and thrill of victory is going to fade in a few weeks/months and the urge will return.
Looking out the window at the swirling wind, snow, and low teen temperatures, I'm glad I don't have to go out there.
Barrister (non-practising these days) of quite a few years' call here. Seconded.
In the UK, jury trial has been removed from civil cases and remained in the Crown Court. Now we see changes afoot to restrict this further, and it is, quite frankly, the worst idea about justice I've heard in an age. Jury trial is a system of equity within law, and one which must be preserved precisely because most people value it and add value to it. Where there is doubt a jury will exercise it, in my experience. But that only happens where a jury and individual jurors are engaged and treat the system with the respect it deserves. The state asks very little in return for a right to vote; a little time to sit in cases where liberty is at stake is, relatively speaking, a very fair exchange.
I served as the foreman on a grand jury once. It was a quite simple task to vote either true bill or no bill. The grand jury process is a gatekeeping procedure to keep the prosecution side of the law from railroading someone for frivolous charges or crimes without sufficient evidence. When called at a later date for regular jury duty, I leaned on my clerk of the court friend to have me excused. That made me happy remembering my past jury duty obligations.
It's not so often we get a short story or novella served to us on a platter like this.
Use it.
