Court House Blues, again.

I knew it, didn't I? Say hello to Juror #6. I don't think I'm going to make a very good juror. Two defendants so it's going to take a little bit longer. Not just two boring lawyers to listen to, but THREE boring lawyers to listen to. And the objections! Good grief, people, just get on with the program already. The reason I think I'm not a very good juror? I already feel like I have my mind made up about these sorry saps. We've seen evidence that's as plain as the nose on my face, or their own nose, however the saying goes. And they're pleading not guilty? What in the world were they thinking? Hello? These saps know they are guilty, their sorry sap lawyers know they are guilty, us jurors know they are guilty. What is the point in going through two more days of this? What is the point? OFF WITH THEIR HEADS, I SAY! Off with their heads. Yeah, I'm not biased, am I? Am I the only juror who feels this way? Gosh, I reeeally hope not.

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I forgot to tell about a bra story I happened upon Saturday at Kooter Brown's. Tacked up all over the walls in that bar were bras. With Kooter's signature on the cups. Next to the bras and covering every other available wall space were photographs of women holding their shirts up to show off their recently braless boobies. The beauty of the digital camera age, I guess. Developing your own pictures at home on the computer instead of getting a note from Wal-Mart saying they aren't allowed to develop pictures of that nature. I got to laughing at some of them, there was one in particular that was funny. A nice, serviceable bra that looked like it belonged on some buxom old fuddy duddy. Some one noticed me looking and laughing and they told me I needed to put my bra up there on the wall with them. "HECK NO!" I told them. "My bras are way too expensive to be hanging them up on the wall of some bar." I'd just gotten them last weekend, too. No way was I leaving one of them behind. Never leave a soldier behind, is what I've always heard. And mine work hard enough for me to be called my soldiers.