When will i ever serve on a jury?

I stopped into the courthouse today to pick up some papers for my friend, and noticed the jury duty room. It reminded me that i have still yet to ever serve on a jury. So while i was there, i decided to storm into the Jury Duty office and demand to know why i haven't been chosen yet. They ran my drivers license and confirmed all my info is current, that i have been registered since 2004 and that my odds for a random summons looks good. I complained that wasn't good enough and that i knew people within the last 11 years that have been chosen several times already. I requested if she could perhaps place an asterisk by my name to choose me faster, but she said she didn't have the power to do that. She then attempts to dissuade my determination by stating the compensation was only $15 per day; and thats when i jumped out of my shoes-

"They pay you 𝘧𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 dollars a day?! ...that is AWWWESOME!"

The bewildered woman sitting one cubicle over watching this conversation all take place was completely speechless, it was worth it just for her face. They said their goodbye and I said seeyah soon.

Why Vandalism 1952

Never in my life have i ever heard a judge explain that the community, schools and churches share responsibility for these young men's action. The blame is not always solely on the parents for failing to love their boys- because no amount of love or preparation can ready them for the black-hearted ostracization their world would present them. They who were so desperate for acceptance that they at least found each other's company in their misery. These boys have clear signs of empathy, one who was more concerned with the rabbit's life than his own; and the others so desperate for affection that they would borrow their fathers car to convince girls to drive around with them.

In the end society judgement was unflinching in its routine outcasting. Incarceration was little different than the life sentence of isolation they already served.

Robot Apocalypse

Smoke detectors are resilient little objects. It’s the one device I need that has never done anything for me, except annoy. Your selfish will to survive is so great, that when running out of battery life, you abandon your smoke post and choose to shriek every few minutes until replaced. Now that I’ve reached my wits end and ripped you out of the ceiling, torn out your still beating battery heart; somehow you still chirp. Its conclusive, smoke detectors are the subtle beginnings of the Robot Apocalypse.

Ladies dig the 5'oclock shadow

 Chicks love the 5 oclock shadow, and i humbly comply to these rigorous demands. And by compliance i really mean ive been doing it anyway my whole adult life. Since i have curly hair, I am one of the small percentage of white men who find it is impossible to be clean shaven without razor bumps. Lord knows this 5oclock trend wont last forever, and when its over and clean faces are in demand, i will look like a pubescent 30 year old teenager ready to attend my Bar Mitzvah.

 According to every women's magazine, scruff is tough; it is in high fashion. A small observation ive made concerning this facial trend; generally speaking ladies will swoon over something they desire the most but are unable to handle. This is no different with facial hair. You tell me how sexy it looks but be prepared to whine in contempt when it scratches your faces! 

Pro tip: whenever you see me on a hot date, i usually come prepared with my upper lip shaven. Prepare your chins ladies, exfoliate with caution. 

Camping out at the airport

Last night/ this morning I challenged the boundaries of my sanity by spending 8 mind numbing hours inside a virtually closed Fort Lauderdale airport. A shuttle is $100 and parking for 2 weeks at the airport wasn't going to happen. So on some serious Tom Hanks type mission to keep myself occupied, from 10pm to 6am, I read every pamphlet brochure informing me about visiting South Florida, I inspected every sliding glass automatic door, pondered over every 1990s piece of airport art, I tested every couch, read every word of bathroom graffiti, observed a free spanish newspaper and wandered miles in place on the people conveyor; all before 3am. I started to question my reality when I weighed the pros vs cons of riding the floor scrubbing zamboni around the airport and dropping some serious wax compound. How do you punish a man who wants to do a charitable act? I mean why would they stop me? Who would stop me? The only other employees i saw all night were the pressure cleaning sidewalk guy sleeping in his truck and the janitor pretending to mop a carpet, while talking on the phone in the video blind spots. I saw a few people on their tablets, but upstairs I couldn't tell if the few other airport inhabitants were doing the same thing i was doing or if they were nesting vagrants. I exhausted nearly everything you can think of doing in an empty airport, and then some. They have a tourism phone that connects you directly to local attractions; in which i left long ranting messages on complete stranger’s voicemails. Killing time is about routine; any little ritual or task you can do. Eventually I washed my hands so many times, they were raw.


The highlight of my night/morning was losing my gallon jug of water, then spending an hour retracing my steps through the entire airport until i finally FOUND it on top of the virgin mobile info desk kiosk. I stared into this rolling advertisement for so long until all i could notice is the imperfections, in which the pixels would glitch and reverse themselves in one of the frames. I took up a profound appreciation for the little overlooked details of the brass ocean creature designs in the linoleum flooring scattered around the second floor. At 4am sharp i watched the airport begin to buzz with obese TSA agents, spilling out of their uniforms and their lower lip flapping in the wind as they blobbed their way late to the security gate. Once open they took an additional full 45 minutes to allow an equally qualified, angry group of fast food employees entrance inside the terminal.


Through this experience, the mystique of the airport has been ruined for me forever. I always saw this area as an impervious, secure, constitution-free fortress that would intimidate any drug smugglers and would-be unshaven extremists from ever coming near a terminal. Now that the veil has been lifted and the honeymoon has ended, i realized this place at night is no different than a bus terminal with air conditioning (sleeping bums included). The same security that forces me to take off my belt and shoes while offering me full body massages is just theater; because late at night/early morning anyone can literally build a campfire in the middle of the airport.  

$ex

I recently saw this article about 6 Fast-Food Commercials That Are So Sexist You'll Lose Your Burger Craving. I would not lend so much credibility to fast food advertising. Although i can see how a large percentile of the demographic it appeals to, may take offense to it. Typically people who eat fast food are not as attractive as the people in the video. There is no secret that some human beings can be sexy and have sex; but just because you do not partake in either, does not mean you have to be offended. Advertisers will exploit these instinctual reptilian urges to sell virtually anything. So enjoy your Carl's Jr Burger instead; let that warm spicy feeling of complacency fall over you like a limp piece of bacon.

Butt Steroids

Since when did culinary excellence look like Boston Market takeout? People who post photos of their shitty food they made on facebook, act as if cooking your own meal is performing some magic and not a daily human function. I suppose its because the very idea of cooking dinner for yourself is so nostalgic, that it is likened to quilt making.

When sharing your next exquisite moment of nutritive distinction, please remember to serve at least 2 carbs with every meal and always on top of only the finest foam platter.


Updated 11/20/14