So earlier in the week I dodged a bullet about dodging a bullet. The afternoon before I was told to report back to jury duty for jury selection, the court called me and relieved me of my duties. Thank god. This one would have been a bitch.

Somewhere this week 12 other people were getting hit by that which I was lucky enough to miss. Lucky because it was a murder trial. Luckier still, because it sounded like a very fucked up murder trial even in just the brief paragraph that intro’ed the page after page questionnaire we the possible jurors had to complete. (A lot of questions on whether I’d ever experienced the inner workings of the American system of juris prudence. I don’t know if it was my frank answers about stupid things like an ounce of my bro’s pot back in the day or the number of lawyers in the branches of the family tree, they didn’t pick me.)

Go ahead and Google Mohammed Monie. I’m not sure what is more crazy, it’s 80s vintage, the confession by someone else to young to try, the tricked out muscle car, the lack of the old, literal, habeus corpus, or the mistrial last year after two days, but I knew I didn’t feel great at the prospect of being in on it.

I never expect murder trials to be as neat as they are in a one-hour block minus commercial interruptions on my TV screen. But, this case just seems desperate and crazy. Whoever rejected me from my service before my schedule got completely jacked, I thank you.

Meanwhile, the only thing on my brain is the upcoming holiday. The Norelco razor season seems crazier and more empty than usual. I never thought an electric razor was the perfect gift. But, when the economy is in the shitter and the world seems to be headed to hell in a hand bag? Yeah, not really.

If you know me, expect products from my lemon tree and, I hope, some things that are a bit up from the sniff of desperation at the mall. No Salad Shooters from me. Although, maybe a nice, one-of-a-kind juicer.

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