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December 30, 2008

Hermaphrodite

My blog is "quite gender-neutral" according to this site. I respect all of the sexes, apparently. Most don't. Pity.

Via Matty

Posted by durban bud at 9:00 PM | Comments (12)

December 21, 2008

Murder Was The Case That They Gave Me

What better way to celebrate the holidays than by spending the last two weeks on a jury for a murder trial. Merry Christmas -- you're going to prison for life!!!

It was my first time serving as a juror. I received a jury summons a few years ago. When the judge interviewed me for that gig, which involved marijuana charges, and I told him I thought pot should be legalized, he said, "Okay, thank you -- you may leave the building."

No such luck this time. I didn't have a good enough excuse to be dismissed, apparently. God knows I tried.

After dismissing a couple hundred potential jurors following the interviews with the judge, they had the remaining tools each take a seat in the jury box of the courtroom. The lawyers looked us over, pointed, whispered amongst themselves and asked certain people to move. It was musical chairs -- with profiling! For me, it brought back uncomfortable memories of 8th grade gym class. If I don't get picked, does that mean I still suck?

They finally settled on fourteen of us -- twelve deliberating jurors and two alternates. We would not know who the alternates were until the end of the trial. I was hoping I was an alternate. It would have been a wonderful learning experience to witness a real-life criminal trial without having to be the one who decides the future of someone's life and the effects it would have on all of the family members.

I was Juror #12.

I won't get into specifics of the case -- for, um, safety reasons -- but it involved the execution-style shooting of a 30-year-old woman in 2007. Her much younger boyfriend was charged with the murder. The victim's two sons, both under 10, discovered their mother's body when they got home from school.

There was barely a mention of the murder in the press. These events are so common in certain DC neighborhoods that sadly no one gives a shit. I found one teeny-tiny paragraph in the Washington Post and the Washington Times about it. That's it. There was never any follow-up that someone had been arrested in the case.

The victim lived in her mother's house. The mother had five children -- four sons, one daughter. Three of her sons were in jail at the time of the murder; the other son was retarded and usually found roaming the streets; and her only daughter was now dead. There was no mention of the father.

Trying to prosecute these cases is nearly impossible in DC. No one wants to talk. The witnesses that do come forward are unreliable and full of baggage, and the police are so bogged down with similar crimes to investigate that the small amount of evidence they do collect is often shoddy and weak.

But we tried our damnedest to make sense of the evidence we did have in order to do the right thing.

Our deliberations lasted longer than the trial. We talked in circles for five exhausting days around a conference table in a room without any color or originality. I told the court clerk that she should consider hiring Candice Olsen for a jury room makeover. Surely her redesign would inspire jurors to let go of their biases and focus on the facts without resorting to stubborn douchebaggery. I recommended applying a green apple hue to the walls in the interim.

At times it got heated. I was only told to pipe down twice by the jury foreman. I was also rudely shushed by an older, sexually frustrated, closeted lesbian during one of my thought-provoking diatribes. The nerve. You never shush a gay man in his thirties when he's on an oratorical roll, especially if you don't want him to call attention to your Mom Jeans and visible facial hair when you snarl. It's vulgar and insulting to the tireless work of Mr. Harvey Milk on our behalf.

Rather than deploying the popular and sassy four-snaps-Z all up in her face, I instead gave her my death stare of pity. Our closeted brothers and sisters are wound tighter than most and often project their own self-hatred on us when we least expect it. But we do not react in anger. We treat them with kid gloves and stare them down until they know that we know that they know better. She never shushed me again. One love, sister.

It was rewarding to spend so much time with a diverse group of people from this city -- young, old, black, white, Asian, rich, poor, hetero, homo -- people who live close to me, but people I probably would not go to Bear Happy Hour with -- though that would surely be entertaining.

Naturally I bonded with the Jewish girl. Love her. We're Facebook friends now. BFFs fer life! We discovered we both belong to the same gym. She said, "It seems like 90% of the men at that gym are gay." I'm like, "I KNOW -- ugh." Then she asked, "Wait -- are you gay?" And I was all, "Gross. I like voluptuous tits, thank you."

The first vote we took was 7-5 in one direction. The next day it was 10-2 in the other. And it stayed that way for the next three days. There were two people on each side who absolutely refused to consider how others could hold a differing opinion based on the evidence. Each time we gave a note to the judge telling him that we were deadlocked, he called us into the courtroom, read our note aloud, and told us to go back to the dreary room and keep trying.

But in the afternoon on the fifth day, after delivering yet another note, he finally declared a mistrial. The judge couldn't have been more gracious and respectful throughout the entire ordeal. The DC government gets a lot of flack for its shitty treatment towards its residents, but the whole staff I dealt with at DC Superior Court was nothing but professional and pleasant. Even the workers at the court cafeteria -- a Firehook bakery -- were warm and friendly. My favorite was an old black woman who always finished my transaction with, "Thank you, baby. You have a blessed day." I will now, sugar!

It sucks to spend so much time trying to come to a unanimous decision only to deliver no remedy to the situation. But we gave it our all and none of us felt like we compromised our integrity at the end. I was also pleased that I could now use the term HUNG JURY when discussing my participation in this process with my immature, horny friends. HUNG JURY HUNG JURY HUNG JURY. Now grow up.

A number of us stayed in the jury room after the judge's final decision so we could talk to the lawyers on both sides. We had so many unanswered questions. We especially wanted to hear what evidence was kept away from us.

It's amazing what kinds of things were ruled inadmissible. Kinda sad, actually. We told both sides what worked and what didn't. Initially the prosecutor didn't think there was a point to try the case again, but after speaking with us, I believe there is a good chance he will. The defendant remains in jail until January. If the prosecutor decides to try the case again, he will remain there.

The victim's brothers are now all out of jail. According to the prosecutor if the defendant is released, there is a good chance he will become the decedent. It's a sorry situation all around.

Neither side had much support in the courtroom audience during the trial, only a handful of family and friends showed up. At times, the seats were completely bare.

The saddest thing is we probably spent more time thinking about these two people than anyone has ever done in their entire lives.

Posted by durban bud at 2:45 PM | Comments (19)

December 11, 2008

Who's That Girl?

ANYWAY...

Any idea who this is? I'm sure someone will figure it out, but if not I'll drop a clue later.

Update: This is so sad. Here's a hint:

Update II: Gooster gets it right! It's the bee girl from the Blind Melon video. Here she is now.

Update III: I've changed the title of this post and added an appropriate photo to make it more relevant.

Posted by durban bud at 5:59 PM | Comments (18)

December 10, 2008

Someone

"How hands-on are you as a father?"

Ricky Martin:

"I don't have a nanny. I'm doing this on my own because I don't want to miss a moment. I have a personal assistant who helps me, someone who takes care of me while I'm taking care of them, but I'm the one who changes the diapers, the one that feeds them, the one that bathes them, the one that puts them to sleep. For any parent, the first couple of months tend to get a little bit intense."

MmmHmm.

Posted by durban bud at 11:00 AM | Comments (8)

December 8, 2008

The Audacity of Hope

This music video is making the rounds for its sheer audacity. There is so much going on here: Lord of the Rings, C.S. Lewis, the rock group Europe, overkill, Dungeons & Dragons, a lot of time, Michael Bolton, disposable income, good vs. evil, heterosexuality, Fabio, cheese, Jackie Collins, brilliance, hope, etc.

It must be watched to be believed. Someone should do their thesis on all the meanings inferred from these four minutes.

Posted by durban bud at 9:34 AM | Comments (7)