Power of the Press...to Fuck Itself

So I managed to wrassle up enough reasonable doubt in a circus of a trial to secure acquittals on some pretty serious shit. However, despite the three rings that constituted this mess, the major controversy appeared after voir dire.

I have a habit of asking prospective jurors whether they've read any stories on the alleged offenses to be tried. Before asking this question, I happened to know that a particular smalltown rag, run by a college dropout and his unemployed janitor girlfriend, ran an extremely inflammatory story declaring my client's guilt from the criminal complaints and calling for his prolonged incarceration. I asked the entire panel whether anyone read this paper. Nobody raised their hands. Afterwards I commented that apparently not as many people read this newspaper as I thought. It elicited unexpected laughter.

That was litreally the last I said of this particular smalltown newspaper. Immediately after voir dire a struck juror confronted me and demanded apology for allegedly ripping on her husband's newspaper. I told her no apology was forthcoming and went to the vending machine. I selected Snickers. The trial commenced, I caught a few lucky breaks, and went home after two days of trial.

Fast forward to Monday. My inbox contained a letter from the "Editor in Chief" of said local paper. It accused me of extreme defamation that was "entirely inappropriate and unprofessional." It demanded that I schedule an immediate court hearing to issue an apology in open court, and write a letter to the editor of every newspaper sold or distributed in this county. All five of them. If i did not comply immediately, the Editor in Chief stated he would take legal action and make formal complaints to the circuit court of this county. My colleagues and I all laughed gregariously at his foolishness and lack of gold.

Going forward again to this afternoon, I happened to be in the same courthouse where all of this took place. The District Attorney informed me that the editor had visited and asked that "criminal slander" charges be filed against me. The "victim" also noticed the judge that I was unethical and should be banned from the practice of law. Hearing this information from the judge, I loudly proclaimed him to be pure grade douche, advised that he should kiss both my asscheeks and advised him to fuck his own mother. This was all hypothetical.

Turns out, the motherfucker was sitting in the lobby, about eight feet away. He heard every word.

So this brings me to the editorial portion of this report. What kind of shitty newsman would take such great offense to simple remarks in open court? And demand such severe vengeance? The First Amendment goes both ways and as it turns out, I too, have the right to speak freely. I in no way implied that his paper was bad during voir dire, but now that I know the reactions, I kind of wish I would have stood on a soapbox and wiped my ass with the latest edition. At least I would have gotten my money's worth.

Another Awkward Utah Moment

So I started playing in a community band and in an effort to bond I've started to respond to people talking to me. Anyways, our resident expert was talking to one of the resident dumbasses (not me) and describing the difference between doowop and bebop.

I just couldn't keep my fucking mouth shut. Upon hearing "this is bebop style," I had to ask "what's Rocksteady style?"

"You mean like a steady rock beat?"

Utah: "No, I meant like Rocksteady and Bebop, from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles."

-Silence-

Utah: "You know, Shredder had a couple of mutant goons including a giant, talking, bipedal rhinoscerous and they'd terrorize the turtles from Dimension X"

-Turns away from Utah without response-

Doesn't anyone have respect for the technodrome these days??? That's some shameful shit.

Another year, another revelation

So I usually take some time around my birthday to reflect on my life, goals, and gold. I try not to compare my life to anyone else's partly because I'm supposed to measure happiness on my own internal scale, but mostly because I'm just pathetic and comparing myself to others would be a complete validation of my self-deprication.

Joking aside, after careful consideration, I've determined at 28 years old, I'm a complete fucking child. I spend most of the day deliberating on burritos and simple ways to vampire-proof a home (hint: Garlic Paint). Clean clothes are heaped on my couch because I'm too lazy to hang them up. Just last week I was late to work because I wanted to finish watching Saved by the Bell. The last woman I dated passed on me for a douche with a green faux hawk. I've watched Rudy so many times I can tell you that the go-ahead touchdown against Georgia Tech should have been denied for holding.

So yeah, I revel in the trivial. And it's not like I'm ashamed of it. I'm just kind of ashamed that I'm not ashamed. I'm 28 years old and I haven't made a truly groundshaking leap in maturity since I was 12. Even as I type this realization, my feet are warmed by slippers that look like mallard ducks.

Every day people seem to hint at me that I should be concerned. My sister is captain of the cross country team and number one in her class, my brother is geting married, my closest friends excel in their careers and watch better movies than I do. Even the mention of someone else's successes seems like a tacit suggestion that if I don't get my shit together soon I'll end up being sixty years old, wearing a Stocco jersey, and still barking at dogs I see in parked cars. So yeah, I can't blame the archaeologist who digs me up five thousand years from now and ignores the study of my bones for lunch because, fuck it, I wasn't Spencer Pratt. (Speaking of which, to anyone reading this, please make sure that when I die, I'm laid to rest in a boat with my sword and cast over a waterfall like Boromir so those dickweeds can't put my corpse in a future museum of the lame).

In the end I guess our time on earth is ultimately measured by how we feel about it. However, I think I would feel pretty damn good about being remembered as a cross between Einstein, Jesus, and Blackbeard. Hopefully by the time I reach 29, I'll at least be able to compare my life and accomplishments to Air Bud. That dog played varsity football when he was only five years old. What the fuck have I ever done?