Thursday, May 31, 2007

This is, like, some serious Matlock shit up in here

It’s 8:00 am. I have been sitting in the Jury Room of the Superior Court in Santa Ana since 7:20.

I’m bored already.

Looking around, I can’t help but feel that jury service is not unlike cattle herding. One thousand people are sitting around in this room (well… somewhere around that; the max capacity for the room is 850), staring forward at a blank wall and two television screens that have repeated the same 10 slides ad nauseum. Some people continue to read the slides; the rest have abandoned all hope, just as I have. We all await our turn at the branding post. Or, better yet: the slaughter house.

Take us for our meat and blood, bitches! I’m ready!

Several individuals have passed out. What a great idea! Until they miss the orientation information. Perhaps they are heavy sleepers; you never know…

There is a guy across the aisle reading a book by Ann Coulter. I’ve had my eye on him since he came in here; he’s quite attractive. My interest waned when the book surfaced. I can understand and tolerate some conservative ideals (my father is the poster child for staunch republicanism); but Ann Coulter is Satan. Anyone who willingly reads her books makes me wary.

I am irritable as a result of the defunct operation of this jury room. There are tables set up in the back of the room for jurors with laptops. I’m not too concerned about the power supply; my battery will last for quite some time. However, upon attempting to log on to the free wireless internet (woo!), I was accosted by Apparently I have to obtain some sort of access code from the jury room staff in order to hop on the web.

There isn’t a single staff member in the jury room.

Enter Stephen pet peeve #253: Mandates from people/entities who do not provide the resources necessary to complete them.

I’m tempted to go to the check-in counter to inquire about the access code. I imagine they would not enjoy that; but is that my problem? Honestly, people. Don’t tell me to talk to jury room staff for an access code if there is no one to talk to.

After some reflection (aka a minute or two later), I realized that access to the internet at 8am is pretty pointless. I need to calm it down. I’m already in the courthouse; they might just bypass arresting me and take me directly into a courtroom for sentencing if I go postal in the jury room.

Who am I kidding? Our penal system is about as inefficient as can be. Thank you, Prison-Industrial Complex, for saving my ass today.

I will right more later on. I have been assigned to a jury pool for a case that will last the rest of the month. Maybe I’ll have the opportunity to be one of the 12 angry men. Hot damn!

I am SO going to lobby to be jury foreman.

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