I hate commuting into L.A. for an 8:30 court calender. I love arriving to find out that my case is first on the calendar. I hate when that happens and the first words out of the judge's mouth (after "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen"), is "I will be calling the calendar out of order this morning. Let's start with number two." Aw, shit.
Another unhappy judge in L.A. has shot himself in the head. Judge Jeff Wiatt shot himself shortly after he learned of an investigation into his alleged child sexual abuse. Did he do it? Of course he did. No innocent man kills himself over the mere mention of a false accusation.
Like the judge who did it last month, Wiatt was among the leaders in 170.6 peremptory challenges. Lawyers in California get to "ding" a judge they don't like, just once per case, automatically. In the Chatsworth court, Judge Wiatt was what lawyers-in-the-know commonly referred to as an "automatic 170.6". There was no less pleasant place to be than in his courtroom. Now we know why. Wiatt was a miserable man who sexually abused children.
The world would be a better place if athletes were forced to pay the full stadium price for all their food and beverages. They might appreciate their fans more. On the other hand, it might force more of them into drug trafficking just to make ends meet.
For example, the NFL's leading rusher from the 2004 season is off to prison for the offseason for putting a deal together. Let's hope he hits the weights and stays off the cell phone.
I've been to prison exactly once in my life, to take a deposition of an inmate who had attacked one of my clients. It was seriously creepy, and it made me want to never break the law in my entire life.
Somewhat less creepy, but creepy nonetheless, is when people sniff their fingers. Where has the finger of that finger-sniffer been? If I don't know, we are never shaking hands unless I can smell the hand soap at two paces.
It bugs me a bit that restaurants have to post signs to remind their employees to wash their hands after they wipe their asses. If they need signs to remind them to wash after they wipe their asses, who or what will protect us when they pick their noses and scratch their ears?
I went to Carl's Jr. for breakfast the other day and the dude took my order for a breakfast burrito and asked me if I wanted fries with that. No, I do not want fries with that. What kind of person eats fries with breakfast?
Hash browns? Sure. Tater Tots®? Maybe. But not fries.
Spicoli was right. People on 'ludes should not drive. Chicks on cell phones, either. Almost every time I find myself behind an apparent daytime drunk driver, it turns out to be a woman on a cellphone. The news bears this out anecdotally. Name one famous man who has killed people driving while using a cell phone. You can't come up with one? Okay, now, name the females.
Celebrity females don't know how to drive drunk, either. Stockard Channing especially doesn't get it. When you throw back some vino over dinner, and you are way over the legal limit, you drive carefully. In contrast, driving along the shoulder to pass a traffic jam miiiight draw police attention. So what does she do? Why, hit the shoulder, of course. I mean, who would figure her for a DUI suspect, right? DUI suspects always try to hide the fact that they are drunk. A contrarian like Rizzo could maybe drive like a drugged or drunken maniac and get away with it. It was an interesting theory, but it does not work in real life. She was in court last week to discuss the matter.
I have a favorite new commercial: Bud Light's "She's annoying, but I'm desperate." When will people in commercials learn to shut their mouths when parrots are in the room? Bud Light is on a roll right now. "Wardrobe Malfunction" is a hilarious ad. So is the one with the skydiver whose instructor chucks a case of Bud Light out of the plane to get the student to jump, and the pilot goes after it instead. Man, that is funny stuff. I'm going to go drink a Bud Light right now just to show my appreciation.
I have a least favorite awful commercial: Re/Max's "Finding a new home isn't a job for amateurs. True, but only a f*cking idiot goes on a burro into the desert, or wades into gator-infested swamps to look for a house. They must think we are stupid, stupid, stupid, and we're going to watch the ad and think, "Damn, I better call Re/Max, or else I'm going to end up looking for houses in the jungle." Re/Max sucks.
That's...that's about all I have to say about all that.
iam thinking small child can take help of thire parents or elders
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jockben
california dui
Posted by: chandan | September 13, 2008 at 10:15
Judge Wiatt was not one of my favorite people, either. Thanks for the fun read.
Posted by: rob | February 23, 2005 at 13:36