Justice is Blind... Deaf and Dumb

As many people, I took interest in the pending Casey Anthony verdict with the same enthusiasm a toddler turning the crank of a Jack-In-The-Box does; expecting a clown to jump out at the end of the song with his red nose, funny hat, and a booming announcement of "GUILTY" as he joyfully bounced around. In the case of Casey Anthony, the only clowns were the jury.

In an attempt to shed light on his thought process. or simply squirt us all in the face with his trick, water shooting daisy attached to his lapel, one juror gave us insight as to what went through his head as he contemplated his decision (and no, it was not one of those fake arrows that appear to go in one ear and out the other).

One Juror member has publicly stated it was hard to for him to reach a decision of guilty because the prosecution did not prove that Casey Anthony lied about killing her daughter, did not prove how she died, and was unable to prove motive. What is especially interesting in his take is that he prefaced his own comments by acknowledging Casey Anthony had lied about several other aspects of the case, including lying to investigators about Caylee Marie being missing. This juror was unable to draw the conclusion that, if a mother lies to investigators about her missing daughter, it is not out of the realm of possibility that she is lying about the cause of death to her daughter or her attempts to cover it up.

As I watched the video of "This laughing guy" otherwise known as the prosecuting attorney, laughing while the defense gave its closing argument, I couldn't help but wonder to myself, "Is he laughing at the defense's juvenile presentation of 'The Facts' or is he laughing because he knows each time a jury member slightly raises a leg or shifts in their chair, a small piece of intelligence seeps from their body into the immediate atmosphere to never return". Was his head shake during the reading of the verdict a sign of disgust for the jury or a sad realization that more Americans are able to name the last 5 seasons worth of American Idol finalists than know the number of amendments in The Constitution (27 in case you didn't know)?

Now Casey Anthony is at the mercy of the court for...wait for it...lying to the police, for which she will most certainly be found guilty if for no other reason, so the state of Florida can save at least a little face by declaring, "See, we don't execute ALL of our murderers".

A couple of the things we will not hear should Casey Anthony decide to address the court before sentencing are, "I would do 20 life sentences if I could bring my daughter back" or "I am willing to take any sentence given to me because it will not compare to the life sentence I am serving now for the loss of my daughter". Instead, I suspect Casey will plan her days in similar fashion to a college student. She will take classes while in jail; not prison, so that she can come across as intelligent, well spoken, and even compassionate once she starts the noon-time TV circus.

I'm not involved in the case in any way outside of watching the news like everyone else. I have no inside knowledge and truth be told, I probably think I'm a lot smarter than I really am when it comes to understanding the legal system. I am not a character witness but, I have witnessed many characters. I understand human nature in many different shapes and forms and what I do know from watching Casey Anthony after Caylee's disappearance, is that Casey Anthony was directly involved with the death of her beautiful, 2 year old daughter.

It shouldn't take CSI to paint a picture and Matlock to interpret it, for a jury to be effective in its role of judging a peer. Instead of this jury utilizing all of the facts, lies Casey Anthony told police, and collected evidence coupled with their innate ability as human beings to understand social and cultural norms, it seems they wanted a YouTube video of Casey Anthony murdering her daughter in order to be sure. Even if that were the case, I'm not confident they would get it right, and have a feeling they would have gone back to the old adage of, "Don't believe anything you hear and only half of what you see". That still give Casey a 50/50 chance.

Instead of the country experiencing a collective, "They got her" exhale, we are left to contemplate how the jury got it wrong. Did the prosecuting attorney's office screw up the case? Not according to any of the legal experts on CNN, FOX, and Court TV. Did the judge handcuff the prosecuting attorney's office by not allowing critical pieces of evidence? Again, the answer is no if you happened to be tuned into any of the pundits with decades of legal experience. We may never know all of the answers as to why the jury reached a verdict of Not Guilty. I suspect that as the offers come in from daytime talk shows, more members of the jury will come forward and share how difficult it was to bypass a treasure trove of evidence and not connect the dots. Until that time, we are only left to wonder and mourn the loss of a child.

We are raised in this country to think Justice is blind in the sense that, Justice does not see color, race, religion, or background rather, right and wrong. In the case of Casey Anthony we are left with the questions, if Justice is blind, is it because she only sees truth and honesty regardless of race, creed, color, or religion? Or, is Justice blind because 12 jurors decided to wrap her in a tarp, duct tape her mouth, and discard her on the side of a road...like 2 year old Caylee Marie?

As the country waited for Justice, it was assaulted and robbed of a one of its core virtues; protecting its children. That my friends, is nothing to clown around about.

Star Gazing

Like the moon illuminating the shoreline, her smile offered beauty and intrigue into what would have normally been a dreary day. Void of requirement or purpose, it was sincere.

He began to look beyond her smile and notice the accompanying stars that complimented her universe. In particular, he noticed a pair of star ear rings she was wearing. Simple but unique in the sense that the stars were something seen but not noticed each day by the common man, he appreciated her style. As only young boys and old men will do, he took a moment from his stressful day to gaze at the stars and appreciated the moment.

As he contemplated the endless possibilities, he relished in the fact that while he had been intently staring at her, she had not become uncomfortable. In fact, it was as if she was admiring some celestial traits of him.

The moment ended as quickly as it had begun. She had captured his imagination and intrigue as only the heavens could. As she walked by him, he muttered, "I wish upon on a star"

Feeling maybe she had dropped something or forgotten part of her coffee order, she hesitated and asked, "Pardon me?"

"See you tomorrow?"

She smiled, and told him she was in town for business but would be leaving the next day. But before she had finished walking through the small crowd awaiting their orders, she said something that would forever make him appreciate the night's sky.

"You know, you never see the same sky two nights in a row. It's always best to appreciate it when you see it and try not to forget."

And forget he would never.

That's what friends are for...

If we lose everyone else, you will still be my best friend.

I was recently married. Sorry I didn't tell you. You're my best friend

The person that ruined your life; I fucked them up and they have moved to Canada. You will not have a day in court, you will not be able to face them when you become a man. I did that for you because you are my best friend.

Did you win the baseball playoff game? Did you play? Sorry I didn't make it. You're my best friend

Good job scoring the touchdown man, that is great! Maybe I'll make the next game. You're my best friend.

Thanks for understanding I'm not into basketball as much as you which is why I didn't make a game. You're my best friend.

I'm so proud of how you sacrificed and worked through your military training. I didn't make it to the graduation so your instructors could tell me how you graduated in the top 1%. I'm lucky to have a best friend like you.

Congratulations on your first born son! Sorry I couldn't make it out for the birth as I had other things going on. I'm happy for you because you are my best friend.

I know you said to be sure to make it out for your daughters birth but, due to the difficulties with the pregnancy and the nature of her handicap, I thought it would be better to give you space instead of support. Let me know if you need anything because you're my best friend.

A second son! I know you really wanted that I and am happy for you. I couldn't make it out for the birth because of so many things going on here. Just know I'm happy for you because you are my best friend.

I've been sick for some time now. I've had a relapse of skin cancer and the head injury I suffered is really affecting me. I know that I don't tell you anything about my ailments, even when you ask, but just know that it is because I don't want to burden you. I keep these things from you because you are my best friend.

One more thing and don't ever forget this, I love you man.

I love you too dad.

Do You Know What One Is?

After arguing during the entire way back from school with her older brother, Sara had had enough from Cal and promptly engaged in elevating her level of insults that she had learned during the course of the previous days.

"Cal, you are such a douche bag"

What Sara didn't know, by virtue of Cal entering the home first was, that both parents had overheard the last part of the conversation. Cal being older but still impulsive and limited in his stressed vernacular observations muttered, "Mother Fucker" upon seeing his parents.

Cal was not worried so much about his parents witnessing the argument with Sara but rather, the lenghty "talking to" they were about to receive from each in their quest to out-parent the other. As if on que, the father addresses Sara with, "Sara, where did you hear that?"

"At School"

"Do you know what a Douche Bag is?"

"No, I just heard it at school"

"Well Sara, a douche bag is a bag a woman fills with vinegar, water, and other things and then uses it to clean her vagina"

"Gross" Sara exclaimed while covering her ears.

"Come with me and I'll show you one" the dad said while getting a huge laugh from the mother and son as her face changed to bright red.

Not to be outdone as well as teach Cal a lesson, the mother asks, "Cal, do you know what a Mother Fucker is?"

Seeing Sara escape punishment, Cal quickly implemented the same strategy as Sara while predicting his embarrassment level would be greatly reduced.

"No, I just heard it at school" Cal quipped

"Well Cal, it is not a very nice word to say especially if you don't know what it is" she began while Cal became slightly agitated with what appeared to be the pending equivalent to a Senate Hearing on worker compensation in Angola.

As the father looked over at Cal as if to say, "Listen to your mother" followed by the compassionate look of an attorney walking his murder client in front of a Texas Jury, a look of panic overtook him.

"Well, if you don't know what one is Cal" she continued while motioning to the bedroom, "Come with me and I'll show you".

The I-Deuce

As much as I would love to take credit for the following, I cannot. None-the-less, I am compelled and equally responsible to share the following story.

We are all aware of how competitive the technology sector is. Most recently we have found out about Apple having a new I-Phone that was left behind at a bar and subsequently, compromised by rival tech factions (imagine a hybrid of Transformers followers and paparazzi).

But it's what you didn't hear about that is the most intriguing. Apple has a new phone that is impervious to water, chemicals, and yes...even our good friend "number 2".

The story goes something like this. A buddy of mine (We'll name him...Duke) was enjoying a nice movement while listening to a wide variety of music, surfing the net, and checking e-mail on his I-Phone. Long gone are the days of simply reading a Readers Digest or Sports Illustrated while passing the time and passing something else. It seems a bit redundant but I'll say it anyway; if you can't multi-task while taking a shit, you're not... shit!

So after checking scores, replying to the gentleman from Africa who just so happens to come from royalty and wants Duke to be the caretaker of his millions, and letting Mother Nature run her course, it is now time to clean up (always remember, sack to spine) and resume the day's activities.

It's at this point that Duke places his I-Phone on a small shelf roughly two feet above the toilet. In continuing to paint this picture, I will describe the various heights and lengths of everything involved in the upcoming and critical portion of this story:
Toilet - 2 feet high
Shelf - 2 feet above toilet
Headphone cord - 2 feet
Duke when standing - 6'4"

Take just a moment to do the math and visualize it.

So just prior to "clean-up" Duke places his I-Phone on the shelf above the toilet. Once clean-up has taken place, Duke opts against the Sit & Flush, and instead goes with the Stand-Turn-Look-N-Flush. It's at this time that the Laws of Math come into play. Being that Duke is 6'4" and the total height of the toilet, shelf, and headphone cord is only 6 feet, something has to give.

As Duke stands, the combination of his head bobbing to the music and the lack of any remaining cord, jerk his I-Phone from the shelf and on a direct path to the dark and murky waters below. As in many life and death or, situations that could cause us a shit load of embarrassment, Duke realized the magnitude of what was occuruing and did what any normal person would do in seeing their $300 investment head straight down the toilet, he swung violently and recklessly in an attempt to knock the phone off course and away from what was surely to be a segment on, Dirtiest Jobs. By his own recollection, Duke got five to six swings in to which I equate to Keanu Reeves in The Matrix where his fists are moving so fast they actually become a blur.

And then like the return of the Apollo crew, there was splashdown. Duke said that his phone didn't cut off immediately as he watched it being consumed by all that had been left behind. As if the phone was the Titanic itself, it had first encountered little resistance in going through the toilet paper but, it was the deadly collision with the large brown ice-berg that jettisoned the phone sideways and into a different position causing the water to overtake it.

Frustrated and in shock, Duke figured he had one choice and it had to be quick. Without reservation, Duke thrust his hands into the water and fished his phone back out in time to see the remaining part of his display screen short out.

Disappointed but not done, Duke quickly knocked off the larger chunks of "debris" off his phone and immediately followed by dousing it with the All Purpose Cleaner 409. After some time and several failed attempts to restart the phone, Duke decided to head into the local Apple Store to see what he could do.

The part time college student, part time employee was eager to help Duke before Duke was able to truly explain what happened. Upon Duke displaying the phone to the worker and stating that is was broken, the worker (We'll call him Ted) immediately took the phone from Duke's hand and begin to handle it saying, "So what happened?'

"Uh, it fell in some water while I was listening to music" Duke replied

"Oh, so can you hear music on it anymore" Ted asked while moving the phone from his hand and up to his ear and around his face.

"Uh, I don't think so. I didn't really check" Duke finally said after trying to determine if he should laugh his ass off or throw up after seeing Ted move the I-Phone from hand to head.

Fast forward 2 hours and a new I-Phone later: Duke shows up to the office shaking his head and laughing at the same time. He shares the story of the day with me and we are both almost on the floor with tears in our eyes from laughing so hard. Duke tells me he bought another phone and a "waterproof case called the 'Otter'" to keep the same accident from happening again. I follow by telling him they should name the case "The Turtle" and he is not amused.

I then proceed to tell this stupid fucking Giraffe that there are a number of things instead of a waterproof case that will save him time and money if he really HAS to have his phone while taking a dump. After I notice him half listening to my suggestions I finish with, "or you could just turn the camera portion of the phone on, shove it straight up your ass, and at least save a few bucks while impressing your doctor by showing the ability to perform your own colon examination and save time and getting those pesky films developed".

It was at that point that Duke's phone actually turned back on. Unbelievably, Duke's phone turned back on and he was able to make a call. Naturally, I made him call me first because I wanted to see if everything he said would sound like a fart or that sound you hear from people when they try to talk underwater.

To my surprise and amazement, Duke's phone appeared to be back to normal with one exception. The only thing that was not able to stand the water, chemical, and shit cocktail he had exposed it to was the camera.

So much for saving money on that prostate exam.

The Best Kind of "Happy"

With the wide circulation of Girls Gone Wild, Loving Annebelle, and the endless home video shots of countless college aged girls sucking and licking each other like how I used to eat an Oreo Cookie, the phrase, "No one knows a woman's body better than a woman" has never rang more true. Well, that's what all the new-age pseudo lesbians would have you think anyway.

I will confess that when measured against the true scale of supporting our gays (why do I feel the need to salute limp wristed and wink when I say that) I am an utter failure. I'm simply indifferent to their plight because I truly don't understand the urge to stick a dick in an area that doesn't self lubricate except for when the partner happens to have a case of food poisoning. I also think it's a bad idea to enter an area that does self lubricate but can be surrounded by hair that is not of the pubic family.

Lesbians are a different story though. Nobody really worries about them because they are not viewed as a threat which is mainly due to the understanding they are not "packing" and the threat of being ambushed by a rogue cock while in an enibriated state remains at zero percent. Pseudo lesbians are the best though because they are like the family dog that runs away for a day or two at a time. Each time they head out on a Beaver hunting excursion, they ultimately always come back home where they belong. Sure, the trip was fun while it lasted but they crave the attention and affection of the one that knows them best.

Bad Doggy

As many Americans, I have a beloved dog that I have grown close to over the years. From trips into the woods to find deer, to swimming in one of the local lakes, to having her lay with me in front of the fireplace on a cold winter night, we have shared many moments together.

But this story is not about this particular dog and many fond moments we have shared together. In keeping with the shameless themes of this blog, this story has to do with the pursuit of a woman, questions to my manliness, my quest to reclaim said manliness, and the resulting head and neck injuries.

I had come to know a girl that for the sake of the story we will call DD which in terms of breast measurement, couldn't be further from the truth. DD came across as very quiet and somewhat reserved girl but not to the point where I expected her to join the nunnery. A very petite girl with long blond hair, green eyes, and from Florida, she seemed to be a mixture of nice surfer girl and ambitious professional. The thing is, I had a feeling there was more to the story. Maybe it was the tramp stamp, possibly the tongue ring, or the fact that I knew while in an inebriated state, she had once auditioned at a strip club during peak hours. It had become my mission to peel back the layers of this onion to see if she could truly make me cry.

We had gone out a few times together over the course of a few months, each time getting only as far as some hypothetical dirty talk of what it would be like to hook up. As like most guys in their early 20's being full of nothing more than stupid thoughts and protein, I went straight for the kill instead of enjoying the hunt which inevitably left my balls more blue than a pair of denim pants. Typically the conversations would take place in one of our cars and be something like:

DD: I think sex with you would be a lot of fun
Me: Me too! I mean, with you that is
DD: Yeah, I think I want to but not tonight
Me: Why the fuck not!?
DD: Maybe we should go back

Sprinkled into the conversation would be failed attempts by me to show her I was a gentleman that was not out to just commit a hit and run on her.

So after numerous failed attempts at landing DD, I finally figured it was time to cut bait, lick my wounds, and move onto the next girl that after saying sex might be fun with me, would at least have the common courtesy to rough up the suspect if she wasn't willing to put the little villain into vaginal solitary confinement.

To my surprise about a week later, DD shows up at my door and it's after 9PM. For everyone in the building that knew me back then, I had a strict rule for any female that came to visit after 9. That rule was if I happened to open my door and invite you in, you were getting the VIP treatment and then getting out. If those conditions were not agreeable, you agreed to getting the door shut in your face. It was straight to the point and kept me from having to be the "really good guy" friend that listens to the late night sob stories of girls having problems with the other guy they were fucking instead of me.

I open the door and see DD there looking like she had just come in from having a few drinks with friends but didn't want the night to end. As per the regulations, I informed DD of the house rules and made clear there were no exemptions even to "friends". She walked in.

In being honest, I will admit to thinking based on all of our previous times together that I was going to either slip this girl a roofy or get ready to ice my balls for the night. I offered DD a drink but instead, she wanted a meal. Before I had time to get into my routine, DD had Thor's hammer in hand and was getting to the bottom of things. Nothing was really out of the ordinary at this point in terms of two young, hot adults getting ready to turn the room into CSI black light equivalent of finding the holly grail.

After about 30 minutes or so, it's time for a change of scenery and I'm ready to get a better view of that tattoo from the back side. Bow wow it's K9 time! As we find our rhythm, something tells me to give DD a nice tap on the ass as we are going for it. Normally, I'm not into S&M kind of stuff as the fight part of my fight or flight reflexes kick in. If you hit me it's instinct to hit you back. In this case though, I felt since I wasn't reacting and I was already pretty much tossing all of her 5'1" body across my bed, she might actually like it.

In having a better understanding of why the following events take place, it's important to know that I am fairly competitive by nature. When it comes to sex, this means a couple of things:

1. She has to cum at least twice before I get mine.
2. I like to feel that the work being put in, is of high quality

Back to the main event.

So up to this point, the first item has been accomplished as DD has cum a couple of times already. Things are going well. So while in doggy I decide to give DD's booty which, is almost begging for it, a nice little spank.

Swat to which DD replies, "harder"

"Are you shitting me" I think to myself. This chick is cool. Well, let me oblige that request... SWAT

Again she says, "harder"

Wait...What? Is she serious? OK, but she's asking for it. Pop!

With almost no hesitation and in between thrusts DD says, "harder"

OK, WTF!? Is this girl into getting her ass beat? Am I going to have to worry about charges in the morning? Hell, you only live once... POP!!

This pushes DD slightly forward and has me thinking, "yeah, take that shit. I bet you won't be asking for any more of that business"

In a competitive like moment that can only be compared to two cars being equal distance from the only remaining parking space left at the mall during holiday shopping, she looks me dead in the eye and says... "harder"

I'm confused, wondering if I'm some kind of pussy and then begin to take her commands as a direct challenge to my manhood. Who the hell does this girl think she is dealing with? I've never left a customer unsatisfied and I damn sure have never been punked by some girl that is on the verge of having to stand next to the "You must be this tall to ride" sign in bed. GAME ON!

I wait for DD to turn her head forward so that she cannot brace for what is coming. I fully extend my arm, twist slightly at the waist as to gain more leverage and momentum without disengaging, and release the same energy that used to power 80+ mile-per-hour fastballs.

BOOM!!!

Not only did DD not see it coming, I'm not sure she ever remembered it after that night as I had walloped this girl so hard that we disengaged sending her into a dual collision with the head board first, and then the wall. I only truly realized the magnitude of what had happened when after a moment, I noticed she appeared stuck to the wall like a fly on flypaper with her neck tucked into her shoulder. DD looked like a crash test dumby from the Mercedes factory.

"Oh shit" was followed by the obligatory "Are you alright" from me.

"Why did you hit me so hard"

"Because you were asking for it. What was I supposed to do"

"Keeping me out of the fucking wall would have been nice" which made me wonder if head boards were fair game.

At that moment, we both realized the moment was gone. After getting dressed and some self chiropractic measures to re-stabilize her neck, she decided to leave and I was back to square one with her... another late night ice session with the boys.

DD never really found the humor in the moment which ultimately lead to nothing more than a hello in passing.

I have learned two lessons from my experience with DD:

1. Never judge a little book by its cover
2. Before smashing your partner into the wall or any other object that may cause concussion, make sure to get yours.