Twelve Angry Excuses

Potential male juror in a three-piece-suit during voir dire: Each member of my wife's entire family was a victim of the Holocaust.

[Long, uncomfortable silence.]

Female judge, older, like Judge Judy: Because of this, do you believe you would not be able to judge this case fairly?

Three-piece-suit: Yes. [He is suddenly visibly flushed.]

Judge Judy: Thank you for sharing that information with us. Next. Please pass the micro...yes...pass the microphone. Juror number eight. Yes...the microphone.

African-American potential juror number eight looking like Bill Cosby dressed like Mr. Rogers: Yes. I am a...

Judge Judy: Please speak inTO the micro...

Cosby Rogers: I AM A FREELANCE JOURNALIST. I WORK FROM HOME AND I ALMOST DID NOT MAKE IT HERE TODAY ON TIME TO MEET YOUR APPOINTMENT.

Judge Judy: The time I set was 11:00a this morning. I realize you had to wait but that was due to circumstances beyond our control. They could not be helped. You think you will not be able to serve?

Cosby Rogers: No. I have a...

Judge Judy: Speak into...

Cosby Rogers: [Deep sigh.] I HAVE A MEDICAL CONDITION.

[Uncomfortable pause.]

Cosby Rogers: I have a mild case of Crone's Disease that debilitates me. I often do not know if I will be able to make it out of the house until I've been up for a few hours.

Judge Judy: You cannot leave your house?

Cosby Rogers: Sometimes I...

Judge Judy: Micro...

Cosby Rogers: SOMETIMES I CANNOT LEAVE MY HOUSE. I HAVE CHRONIC DIARRHEA.

[Very long, uncomfortable pause.]

Judge Judy: You feel you would not be able to serve?

Cosby Rogers: NO.

Judge Judy: Thank you for sharing that information with us. Please pass the microphone. Juror number nine.

Average, middle-aged, male potential juror number nine in average clothes with a nice smile and a striking velvet, violet scarf: Yes. I have no reasons I feel I could not serve except you should know my partner and I have tickets to New Orleans for Mardi Gras next week.

Judge Judy: As I said before, this case will be tried every Monday through Wednesday beginning next week.

Liberace: Yes. We leave Monday night.

Judge Judy: If you get selected you will have to change your ticket. Next.


-----

I never got picked for 'voir dire' although every morning I prepared for it. Before I entered the court room I mentally reviewed how I would answer Judge Judy's questions:

Judge Judy: Where do you live?

Potential female juror looking a bit sleep deprived and wearing a Law & Order T-shirt: 348 West 49th Street

Judge Judy: Have you ever been convicted of a crime?

L & O Groupie: No, Your Honor. Madame Judge.

Judge Judy: Have you ever been witness to a crime?

L & O Groupie: No, Your Honor.

Judge Judy: Have you ever been a victim of a crime?

L & O Groupie: Yes, M'am. I had my wallet and cell phone taken out of my purse and twice a homeless man showed me his penis.

Judge Judy: I'm sorry to hear that. Do you think those events would keep you from being a fair and just juror.

L & O Groupie: Oh no, Your Honor.

Judge Judy: Good. Have you ever known anyone who was a victim of a crime?

-----

I thought about my answer to this question each time she asked a potential juror. "Of course I have...I live in NYC!" I've had friends stabbed, shot at, run over, exposed to, attacked, mugged. Crimes are committed within a five foot radius around most of us at any given moment!

I decide I don't want to confuse things:

L & O Groupie: No M'am.

-----

Wait. If I say no, she'll know I'm lying. I live two blocks away from Times Square. I've called the police twice on my downstairs neighbor. I live next door to a drug rehab center:

L & O Groupie: Yes.

[Pause.]

Judge Judy: Yes?

L & O Groupie: Yes.

[Pause.]

Judge Judy: Can you please explain?

L & O Groupie: Um. No.

Judge Judy: No?

She asks again. I turn red. I start to cry then babble on about how I really really really want to be on the jury and how I've wanted to since I was a kid and if I had studied harder, no, not been an actor, no, won more cases on the debate team...well...I only did one debate...and that was 'cause I was at a speech tournament to do my monologue from The Fantasticks and the other half of the debate duo missed the bus therefore rendering our school disqualified...

[Music: DUN DUN.]

[Cut to: 'TCI PRISON, FOND DU LAC, WISCONSIN'. Close-up on L & O Groupie lighting a cigarette. Camera pulls out to reveal she has aged 25 years...]

-----

It is probably best I'm back at work but I thought about calling in sick this morning because of the Holocaust.

The Beholder

I'm sitting in a stall in the bathroom at work. I'm a little sleepy and this is the only place I can hide. Between the seat and my rear, I've got the tissue paper thing that always rips when you try to peel the center out. I've got my arms folded across my legs, eyes closed. I hear a few women come and go in the stalls around me. I wonder what they think, then decide I don't care. I've seen women change clothes, cry, bring their laptops in here. It is probably the only hiding place in the building. I open my eyes and look down at the button on my jeans.

"House Doll"

I think it's a clever brand. It conjures all kinds of images. Would that be a job? A person? A toy? Family member? A wine?

Then I realize...I'm reading my pants up-side-down.

When I first moved here, I had a brief crush on an artist that lived in my building in D.U.M.B.O. He was disfigured from a fire and named after a color. He also had a thrift store inside his home. Dream man. I fantasized about being his hippie girlfriend...sewing new eye-patches for him...riding piggy-back on his bicycle...matching tattoos... I spoke to him once and he grunted at me...never returned a hello when we passed in the hall...then I overheard him talking about a rave at a gallery or something and realized I was no where near his league...nor he mine. Kelly Ripa & Keith Richards. Sounds interesting in theory. But the yin might actually swallow the yang.

I truly believe opera is the last of a dying art where music meets performance. Skill, talent, hard, sacrificial, life-style changing work. It is very serious. As it should be. Like church. Recently, Greg and I went to see a good friend perform opera IN a church. Prior to the overture, the conductor came out, bowed and stepped down to the orchestra pit. As is custom. There was the typical spotlight over him and from our view we saw his glowing arms, his stick pierce the air and we heard incredible music spill out from below the stage. As is custom. Then I had to bite my bottom lip to keep from busting out laughing. As is custom. What if there were NO musicians down there? What if there were speakers hooked up to a little tape recorder? What if that man wasn't even a conductor?!

Sometimes. In order to survive this nutty world. I think we need to think about and look at everything upside down and opposite...especially until we laugh.

When I Grow Up

Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep. -Scott Adams

What if we stimulated the economy by taxing religious institutions?

Only ones that make major bucks of course. Let's discuss...

"I laid my bed, I'm gonna have to sit on it."

If I were in my very early twenties and deemed THE BEST by my family, friends, colleagues, enemies, doctors, lawyers, management, accountants, audiences, the world-wide-web, MLB, ESPN, USA, stalkers and fans...I would probably do just about anything I could to make sure I maintained that status.

Especially if I was contractually obliged to do so.

If English were not my family's first language and money was not my family's first accomplishment, I think once I had discovered I could do something no one else could do in a country that would make me a hero for doing so...I would PROBABLY PUT A NEEDLE IN MY ARM EVERY FEW MONTHS IF EVERYONE ELSE WAS DOING IT.

The sanctity of baseball statistics aren't that precious people. They aren't even scientific. We've excluded 60 years of negro players. We pay huge salaries to young players who come from poor backgrounds and expect they do what they do just for the love of the game. And let's not forget each ball park is different from the next. A home run is technically over the fence...what if the fence is 10 feet away? Baseball is a very human sport. That IS the beauty of it.

Let's just say from here on out, NO DRUGS ALLOWED and get over it. We - the 'we' that makes up the rest of the world - have NO idea what it is like to be famous...to make a living having your life on display and for the most part, belonging to everyone BUT yourself. Yes it is a job. Yes, they signed up for it. But even if you worked in a laundry-mat you'd probably do what you had to in order to keep food on the table if your position were threatened. This is America. We are founded on competition. Sure we have rules but even our President...especially our President...'interprets' those rules on a daily basis.

Morality is an opinion. We made it up folks. One man's trash is another's treasure.

Of course I don't think drugs should be a part of sports. But it is. We ramp up the competition with higher payrolls, more accountability and more responsibility than one person could possibly handle. Thing is...they don't. We forget that. Mr. Rod ain't out there on his own. He hired Madonna's publicist just before she started coming to his games. The higher the stakes, the harder the crash from the pedestal. Dave Chappelle turned down all that cash remember? We roll out of bed and pour a cup of caffeine to face our day. If we could pour something a little "better" maybe we would.

Even Iago feels righteous about tripping up Othello's Achilles' heel. Secretly we all love Iago, don't we? He doesn't even die in the end.

It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye. I've recently switched to tea. Clearly the pressure is off.

One Nation, Under God

I have jury duty tomorrow morning.

1. It is 12:20a and I'm finishing my second glass of wine.

2. Greg and I are about to start another episode of Big Love.

3. I might decide at 2:30a it is time to mop the kitchen floor since Greg has a friend coming to stay with us on Wednesday.

When I show up at the court house ['court house'...like I live in Mayberry...] at 8:46a will they let me in the door?

Actually, I will probably be early. I'm oddly excited. Most people want to get out of THE DUTY but I welcome it! I will sit squinchy-faced when that smooth-talking-misogynistic-handsome lawyer tries to change my opinion. I will cross my emotionless arms across my emotionless chest when the hottie-deep-throated-ball-crushing lawyer tries to sway my feminist tendencies to her persuasion. I will look solely at the facts. And do my DUTY. I am an American. I am a NYC citizen. Lives are at stake here.

I have been watching too much Law & Order.

Boutellona

She has thick, wavy wild hair and sometimes she sings or dances, speaks out loud or cries when she paints large rolling strokes across a wet linen canvas. One side of her cottage is glass and the view is bright, living green. When it rains, she lights candles and invites her husband to lay on the floor with his head next to the glass so he can see what the grass sees. When she becomes a mother, she will teach her children to climb and they will all learn how to build a tree house together.