Augh!!!

It’s the single-most dreaded piece of mail to ever plague humanity.

That’s right.

A jury duty summons.

So many ponderings raced through my brain.

But luckily, No Man’s Land offers an exemption for parents with kids under the age of 12.

Twelve?!?

Are you kidding me? 

Have you seen my kids in action?

While I’m fortunate that one of them is indeed still younger than 12, they’re both probably going to require constant and direct supervision for a long time.

Like, until they’re 30.

At the very least.

I can’t, in good faith, leave them unattended for prolonged periods of time to burn the house down or clear out all of the neighbors’ refrigerators.

Uh uh.

Yet, there are seemingly no provisions for a lack of remaining sanity, other than the requirement of having sound mind and good judgment.

But isn’t this all relative?

I mean, my own questionable judgment leaves me scratching my head at times.

But am I truly insane in the brain?

Or insane in the membrane?

Probably not, by any clinical definition.

(Sorry, Cypress Hill.)

I’ve been told some people actually enjoy jury duty.

This is difficult to fathom, but more power to those good citizens for carrying out their civic duty without complaint.

For me, though, I can think of a whole host of reasons for why I personally might not be a good fit once I no longer qualify for an exemption.

I’d probably start off by pretending I’m anti-everything-under-the-sun.

Do you believe in justice?

I don’t know. Maybe?

Are you a fan of leniency?

No.

Are you for the death penalty?

No.

Do you even like people?

Hell, no! 

Ah, so you’re an antisocial people-hater.

That’s right! But at least I’m an equal opportunity people-hater!

Alrighty then… consider yourself excused. Seriously, please go ahead and show yourself the door.

Okay, so this isn’t exactly true.

I am not a people-hater.

I do like (most) people well enough.

Along with peace, rainbows, butterflies, and all that good stuff.

Ooh, a butterfly!

Did I mention I have the attention span of a flea?

It’s true.

I can’t sit still for five minutes.

And my overactive, imaginative mind is also prone to wandering.

Big time.

Should I show them I’m a raging psychopath by pairing a badly painted on Joker-like smile with completely mismatched shoes and a pair of Depends over my pants?

Or start roaring like a stegosaurus?

Or make a show of entering the courtroom while head banging to Let the Bodies Hit the Floor?

Or better yet…

Sing a catchy duet with a scruffy stuffed teddy bear that’s perched on my shoulder.

And if that doesn’t work, I could claim that the stuffed animal is actually a service pet, then bring it into the courtroom and proceed to defiantly whisper garbled, jumbled nonsense to it throughout deliberations.

Oh, yeah!

Or why not employ serious Valley Girl talk?

Like, oh my god!

He, like, did what?

Like, oh my God!

Oh my God, oh my God!

That meany man, like, totally maybe, like, killed somebody, and stuff! 

Hmmm.

Act smart!

No, pretend to be stupid!

No, just act totally average!

Say what?

It’s all such conflicting advice.

Well, when in doubt, why not mix things up a bit?

No comprendo!

Me not be get it!

What is this ‘reasonable doubt’ and ‘guilt’ you be speaking of?

Me still don’t not get it!

Or why not break out in laughter at totally inappropriate moments?

Or demand to be exclusively assigned to incredibly bizarre cases?

Preferably one about a guy who stole a Blue Ribbon winning pot belly pig named Bacon and then really turned him into bacon.

Or a case with an old lady who ran over a farmer’s favorite cow when the cow stuck its head out of a fence and into traffic to eat greener grass.

Or what about the true story of an elderly gentleman in Kansas City who robbed a bank…

And then stuck around until the police arrived to inform the cops that he’d only robbed the bank because he couldn’t stand to spend another minute at home with his wife.

Must’ve really been a match made in heaven for a guy to decide he’d rather go to jail than be home with his own wife.

But unfortunately, it didn’t turn the way he’d hoped, because along with probation and community service, the guy was also sentenced to 6 months of home confinement.

Well, so much for that.

Oh, but I really shouldn’t worry so much.

After all, I have virtually no sense of direction, so it’s unlikely I’d ever find my way to the courthouse, anyway.

If I truly had to go, that is.

Although…

To be fair, escaping to jury duty when you’ve got wild and crazy kids might not be such a bad thing.

Hell, it might even be the next closest thing to a vacation

Especially if there are spinning chairs involved.

Wheeeeee!!!!

~Happy weekend and Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there!~