Sunday, December 28, 2008

Resolutions for the faint of obedience

I don't really believe in New Year's resolutions, since I figure if I'm too lazy, selfish or insolent to do something different on any other day, why should getting a new calendar make a difference? However, I recognize the value of marking one's choices - such as getting married, buying a midlife crisis camaro or setting the now ex's clothes on fire, thereby making the breakup official. However, as I am a counselor at law, I've decided to hand out some potential resolutions for the faint of obedience: i.e., my clients, the theives and crackheads of the world. My suggestion to you is to resolve to:

1. To break only one law at a time. If you are drunk, don't run red lights or have your buddy stick their ass out the window. If you have no license, don't drive drunk. If you have 3 pounds of coke in the trunk, don't speed, or rob a liquor store.

2. To pay your fucking lawyer. Guess what? Until you've paid, you have no lawyer and are on your own when the D.A. gets sick of giving you continuances. Know how you thought you shouldn't go in on that robbery without a lawyer? You're going to, and I'm going to be in the back drinking coffee and probably not even wishing you luck. What, am I your guardian angel?

3. To not smack your girlfriend. If your girlfriend is a bitch, leave her. Smacking her up will not make her less of a bitch. In fact, she will, surprise surprise, probably just be pissed at you and get your stupid ass arrested. In a nutshell, "she deserved it" is not a defense.

4. To not come to court drunk. Seriously, it doesn't help.

5. To not come to court high, particularly on a drug charge. People can tell you are high. You are fooling no one. Your red, slanty little eyes and inability to dig your keys out at the security station will not be chalked up to allergies.

6. To pull your damn pants up. The judge will not be impressed by your fine choice in underwear.

7. To realize I am your advocate, not a miracle worker. See those other 276 people in the courtroom? They want to get out of here too. Sit down and shut up. If you didn't want to spend the day in court, you shouldn't have been buying meth in a stolen car.

8. To not smash windshields. Smashing someone's windshield only makes one point: you are an asshole with anger issues who needs to grow the fuck up. Find another solution.

9. To run your story by a couple people before you bring it to court. If they laugh, it is not a good defense.

10. To keep your car on the road: not to veer off into a ditch, a japanese maple, a convenience store, or someone's living room. Ass on the asphalt, it will save you a lot of money in the long run.

Good luck to you and happy new year. May your crimes be smart, your cops be lazy and your alibis strong.

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Some Christmas ideas for the poor in wallet or heart

Christmas is different when you're broke, which is the case for a lot of people in today's shitcan economy. I'm lucky enough to be employed. Many people these days are not, and spend the day drinking cheap beer and watching Lifetime movies in hopes of seeing someone whose life is worse. If you'll find it, you'll find it on Lifetime. 10 a.m.: "Hearts on a dove's wing: the triumphant story of a one-legged incest victim dumped in the Alaskan tundra by abusive wolves." Stuff like that.

Yet, people want to give Christmas presents. On the eve of this formerly religious holiday turned gaudy celebration of conspicuous consumption represented by a dangerously obese flying man, I thought I'd help by suggesting some presents that won't cost you any beer money. Here we go.

1. Love. Not the boring love your fellow man kind, though. Go fuck and ugly person who will appreciate it.

2. A paper bag with holes cut in it for the eyes and mouth. This is for your friend who is following the above suggestion.

3. Mice, decapitated birds, moles, voles, maybe a squirrel on a good day. I know these cost no money because my cats drag them in all the time and they are not getting an allowance. At least not from me.

4. Starbucks coffee. Oh, no wait. That costs lots of money. It just shouldn't because they're a fucking blight on America. They should pay us.

5. Stolen things. I recommend doing your Christmas stealing all in one place; the more security guards you encounter, the more likely you are to get caught. If you do get caught, however, it will be expensive. If you're in NC, drop me a line and say you were referred by legal bandit for a 10% discount on your defense, which will be "I was broke and stupid."

6. Crap in your attic you got last year and didn't want. Dust that shit off and pass it on. You should bust out some fresh wrapping paper though, and take off that "to Paul from cousin Doofy" tag. Just because you're broke doesn't excuse being tacky.

7. Give a present to the rest of the world and future generations - fire up a brain cell, haul your fat ass a few feet over and recycle your damn bottles and cans. Try using your grubby fucking paws to carry things out of a store instead of taking a plastic bag that will spend thousands of years in a landfill. Recently I saw this piece of shit leave his giant SUV running while he went into a convenience store, bought 2 sodas in plastic bottles, and let the clerk put them in a plastic bag like he couldn't carry them without a toxic handle. My Christmas present is that he and everyone like him be dragged out and shot.

So, there are a few ideas. Enjoy and happy holidays. Hope you get a job by next year and can come up with some present ideas on your own. If not, see you in court.

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Is this over yet?

Gee, thanks for the zero offers of ideas to cheer me up, you lazy fucks. I could have just gone and stabbed somebody, and where would your bandit blog be then? Written in jail, that's where. And the girls there are, so far as I've seen on jail visits, distinctly not hot. It's not like when Helena and Dusty hooked up on 'The L Word', at least not in rural NC where most of the chicks are in there for crack and meth, which has left their teeth looking like hedgeclippers.

But I digress. Now, to the holidays. I have noticed the past few years that holidays are very different when you don't drink. Less people to hang out with, less places to hang out, and you're stuck actually experiencing the whole thing - crazy aunt, gobs of shoppers, piped-in Christmas carols, hungover co-workers, the Salvation Army bell (or was that a drill in my ear the whole time I was shopping?), guilt trips, expectations that one nicely wrap things one did not want to buy in the first damn place, clients with no money to pay because they had to get their brat kid an Xbox to make themselves feel better for being shitty, drunken parents all year, traffic, blow-up santa dolls hanging out of windows and waiters with felt reindeer horns on their heads. No wonder people invented eggnog. It allows even old ladies an escape, and God knows everyone needs one this time of year.

However, happy holidays, and may your buyer's remorse not be too painful. If so, I suggest we all set our credit card statements on fire and create a new holiday which involves people boycotting corporate america, wearing normal clothes, ignoring our families and shutting the hell up for a couple of days. Let me know if you're interested. Unless I get something really cool for Christmas, in which case I suggest you down some eggnog, 'cause you're on your own.

Friday, December 19, 2008

Cheer me up, dammit.

The end of the year, in reality, means nothing. People made up calendars to keep up with themselves and each other and to explain why grandma is so much more wrinkly than the baby. On January first we'll all be the same people dealing with the same shit washing the same dishes and changing the same baby and grandma diapers. Calendars mean nothing.

Yet, at the end of every year it seems like everybody's shit gets stirred up and we feel weird. I've been pretty depressed lately. Of course, the dead fish didn't help, or crap at work, or realizing suddenly that Christmas is next week and I just don't wanna. People around me are cranky. On the bright side, there's this D.A. with awesome legs who wears a skirt almost every day. Yeah.

This morning I started a list of cheer me up things. This is as far as I got.

1. D.A.'s legs. Both of them. In high heels. Mmmm.

2. Christmas will be over soon. No more stupid music in every store I go into because I need grapes and deodorant. People will stop wearing Christmas sweaters, which are an abomination and should all be burned. I will not be tempted to strangle some guy in a stupid Santa tie for 12 more months. Overall, good.

3. If I break down and stab somebody, I know several really good defense attorneys and all the local judges. I just need to stab someone in this county.

4. There's always chocolate.

5. Butt stick is only in the office for another week. (If you're confused, see post "butt stick.")I am looking forward to no longer having to deal with butt stick, who could probably benefit from a good ass kicking. Again, I do know some defense attorneys.

6. L word starts back up next month, even though retarded ass Showtime is taking it off the air and ripping everyone off with a 6 week season. Still, though. It's the L word.

7. I never have to take the bar again. Thank God, because I'd stab myself.

8. I'm running out of ideas. That's sad, isn't it?

Help me out here. Mail your happy thoughts on a postcard taped to the hood of a new BMW to: Bah humbug, 110 S. Dammit Street, Gimme-leggs NC. Don't use cheap tape and fuck up my paint, either. thanks.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Habeas is corpus

I've apparently killed my fishie and am very sad. I really loved this fish. He lived in my office and I felt guilty every weekend when I left Habeas by himself with no one to talk to him or feed him, and apologized every Monday morning. I rescued him, since people are always stuffing bettas in these tiny, sad bowls, which I think is terrible; so he got a 3 gallon tank with live plants and was very happy. However, yesterday I thought the tank needed to be cleaned and I changed out the water and washed the algae and fish poop out of the gravel and apparently, he liked it better dirty because he was dead this morning. We buried him in a paperclip box outside my window and I cried in the parking lot.

This leads me to philosophize a bit about some of the fucked up people I see every day. The system punishes them and occasionally tries to rehabilitate them but maybe if they cleaned up too much, they'd go belly up. Maybe some people just need to be in a little crap to be OK. Who are we to say? Maybe the laws of nature apply to us too. For instance, a catfish wants to eat gunk off the bottom of the pond. It's what makes him big and fat and whiskery. Maybe some people are just made to have a continually revoked license, a pissed off family, a familiarity with the jail guards, a lawyer budget, and favorite games to play in a cell. They provide jobs for lawyers and judges and district attorneys and jail guards and legislators and police and probation officers and clerks of court and probably a bunch of people I don't even know about. Maybe some people just don't need the water changed.

Sigh. Well, guess I'll mourn the fish for a couple of days and find another, perhaps luckier, inhabitant for this lonely looking tank, and let him get dirty if he wants to. In the meantime, more power to the catfish people who pay for my office so I can give a dirty fishie a home.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Spring loaded! Look out!

I work for a guy who is wound so tight I fully expect springs to start snapping and flying out of his body in all directions any day now, so sometimes I keep my distance, you know, just in case. I've got insurance but I also like having two eyes. They probably do eye transplants if yours get poked out by flying springs but I don't know for sure. Besides, I might get a set of big, googly eyes - the kind that makes people think "wow, look at those big, googly eyes! I'm glad I don't have bulging buglike googly eyes like that. I wonder if he's inbred?" or things like that. Mine are nothing really special, I don't think, but are not googly and are a reasonably nice size and color, so I want to keep them, and besides, having your eyes poked out probably hurts a lot.

I also might get crackhead eyes, which are incapable of seeing the next sensible thing to do pretty much ever. Here's a tip, in case you didn't know: crackheads are not reliable people. Today boss bandit wanted me to sit second chair on a jury trial. The case involved one crackhead hitting another in the head with a baseball bat. We were going to argue that it was self defense. Our star witness has been homeless since she got out of jail last. It took quite a bit of effort to find her. Unfortunately, the guy who got smacked in the head didn't show up and couldn't be found. The rumor is he's on the run after a local drug sweep in order to stay out of jail. He has no phone and I believe, no formal address. People acted surprised. Really? He's a no phone having, basically homeless crackhead, and the type of guy people hit with bats. How surprised can you be? Guys like that don't scrub up and appear on time in court to describe how a fight broke out over who got to sleep with the chick they passed around and,how, well, people were really cranky because the drugs had run out and no one was going to have any money until somebody stole some. The prosecutor got a continuance. I am not sure how much good it will do her, but hey, if it makes her happy, that's great. All things considered though, I still say she looks like she needs to get fucked silly and that would make her happier than a crackhead continuance, but who am I to judge? I'm just saying she looks like she has an ass of ice and that can't be comfortable. I'm just saying. I'd still do it if I didn't have a girlfriend, though. She's a rather cute uptight ice queen. Again, just sayin'. In the meantime, I gotta go unwind and fashion some sort of spring protector sunglasses for tomorrow. It's gonna be a long day.

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Sell it to me

'Tis the season to go buy crap. Years ago, I thought about going into marketing but was too stoned so I just sat around dreaming up funny ads, which I thought at the time amused my cats, but am now not so sure.

I still find myself fascinated with how people try to convince others to buy their crap (hot chick eats popcorn = suggestion popcorn breath will get you laid) and also by how people pick their target audience. "He went to Jarred's!" targeted to bridezillas who measure a guy's worth by the size and setting he chooses for a little piece of compressed coal dug out of a mountain by a Sri Lankan with one arm. That's love. Or so the marketers over the past 70 years or so have said.

My favorite thus far is a local shop: "Guns and Scooter sales." I'm not making this up. This, I presume, is aimed at gun totin' drunk drivers - people who have lost their licenses but may still legally defend their trailer or gang by popping a cap in somebody's ass. On second thought, just the trailer dwellers. People in gangs, in my experience, don't really give a fuck about some little license revocation. Besides, what kind of drive by shooting is that? "Putt, putt, BANG! putt, putt, BANG! BANG!" "Where did that come from?" "The dudes on the little scooters." "The scooter gang? Seriously?" After which, the unharmed targets chase down the guys on the scooters, who are fleeing the scene at 35 mph and kick their asses. So, I guess it's for drunk drivers who need to defend their trailers. Or people too poor or lazy to pay their speeding tickets, resulting in a revoked license but apparently enough money to buy a .22 automatic. The question remains why they take so fucking long to pay my bills.

Maybe we should start selling weapons. Here's the marketing idea: "Bazookas and bond reductions! Get your guns and hired guns at your one stop crime shop!" Or something like that. It's a work in progress. In the meantime, I've got to go hand out some business cards and get the bills paid so I can spend it on something marketed just to me: a left handed lesbian lawyer with a bunch of cats, a penchant for old trucks and a stomachache from too much coffee. Any takers?