Tuesday, July 27, 2004

Court is Fun

Spending three straight full days in a courtroom listening to expert testimony about semiconductor chips and fighting the impulse to throw yourself in traffic, you start dreaming up some really fucked up things. I noticed this early on and started jotting down the thoughts that crossed my mind. Here is a Greatest Hits Album from the last 3 days:

July 26, 2004 (11:30am EDT)
"Chinese food for lunch today. I'd love to find a restaurant that gives you fortune cookies with fucked up fortunes inside. You could call them MISfortune cookies. I wonder if anyone's ever thought of it? (authors note: it turns out--thank you Google--that I was not the first person to come up with this idea.  Apparently I'm not even the TWENTY-first person to come up with this idea ) I could come up with some funny shit:

--you're significant other just slept with your next door neighbor
--Congratulations, you have cancer
--You're adopted
--Your family hates you
--Your pork chow mein was made with cat.
--Rape isn't a crime. It's a past-time
--that's not baby fat...you're just ugly

July 27, 2004 (2:46pm EDT)
"I wonder what would happen if I cracked a beer in the middle of court? I should bring in a small igloo cooler with a six-pack of Tallboys...no no no. I should arrive in a suit with a beer helmet on. OR, I could roll a pony keg up to counsel table and ask anyone who makes eye contact with me if they want to do a kegstand."

July 26, 2004 (1:55pm EDT)--25 minutes after chinese food
"I wonder if the judge would get upset if I farted. A LOT."

July 23, 2004 (8:25am EDT)
"I just found out that the attorney for opposing counsel who is examining our expert went to Stanford for undergrad. I immediately hate him. I consider him the most despicable kind of human being and I have not stopped staring at him with utter and complete disdain since I found out. If I catch him looking at me I am going to jump over the table and hit him in the face with a binder."

July 27, 2004 (10:50am EDT)
"I think the court reporter and I have developed a connection.  I'm sitting right near her and she keeps looking over at me and smiling. She's pretty cute...I wonder if I can distract her enough to make her mess up the transcript? 'Dr. Farr is it your testimony that the manufacturing of semiconductor chips require that goddam he's cute I want to have sex with him in the bathroom at lunch strict adherence to MO-220 Industry Standards.'. OH NO, she has a big round potbelly! No wonder she wears so many pants suits!"

July 27, 2004 (3:44pm EDT)

Opposing counsel looks like they were pulled from a comic book convention or the ticket line from the opening night of Lord of the Rings. When I look at them I am at once intrigued and disgusted by the type of pornography these people most likely watch...especially Gus Johnson.
Johnson is probably in his mid-50s with beady eyes, a lipless grin, a pale ashen-colored face and a long sloping angular nose reminiscent of New Yorker political caricatures from "Talk of the Town." His suits fit like tarps over mounds of dirt--it's not all his fault really. He's a fucking mess. He's the kind of fat man who looks like he would leak out onto the floor into an amorphous pool of blubber if it weren't for the constrictive, form-shaping nature of men's business apparel.
I don't know if it's just me but I'm pretty confident that if I went to Bangkok next week and asked the cab driver to take me to the section of town with the fellating 10 year old schoolboys, I'd probably run into Gus Johnson


Blogger The Bunny said...

Good God you are fascinating, you pretentious, New-Yorker reading pre-clovis fuck!

July 27, 2004 at 8:28 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I had the chinese misfortune idea last week while bored at a work lunch. My own suggestions:

-- You should get that lump checked out.
--Demand a paternity test.

August 4, 2004 at 3:49 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I had the chinese misfortune idea last week while bored at a work lunch. My own suggestions:

-- Get the lump check out. Now.
-- Demand a paternity test.
-- Your wife's genes are XXY.
-- This fortune cookie was dipped in urine.
-- Your son wears your daughter's underwear.
-- Your ass smells like hotdogs.
-- Your husband will leave you for a younger woman.
-- You have cellulite.

August 4, 2004 at 3:55 PM  

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