Strike The Root Blog

The judge said to us, “Only free people are lucky enough to perform.” He was speaking to a group of fifty of us who were about to go through the long, tedious motions of voir dire in a Ft. Worth criminal court. I tried not to laugh out loud.

Not being registered to vote, I was surprised to have received a jury summons in my mail six weeks prior. After cursing about it, I found out that in Texas, they grab people from the drivers license rolls, since there aren’t enough registered voters otherwise. No wonder–even if I didn’t view voting as an act of violence, I wouldn’t risk going through the horrid experience of jury duty again by daring to vote.

I read through the list of disqualifying questions, looking for an out. No dice, either I would have to lie, which I will not, or I was stuck going. Now, I do happen to believe in the merits of a legal system, just not one enforced by a government; I would have been much more willing to acquiesce were it to be a civil trial.

Instead, I ended up in front of a man being tried for narcotics possession. Geez, what a waste of taxpayer money, but at least that provided me with my out. When asked if anyone would be unwilling to sentence the individual, I was the second one with my hand up (the first guy said, “no, I know guys in prison, and no one deserves that horror”). “I don’t believe in drug laws,” I said, and was allowed to sit down, and eventually went home, not having to serve on the jury.

But that was after two days. I had to drive 22 miles each way, and after a full morning the first day waiting in a sea of voters and drivers, I was told to come back the next day and report to my appointed criminal courtroom. That’s 88 miles, or roughly 4.5 gallons in my old Explorer, about $16 of gas money at the time. I had to take off work both days. In Texas, your employer doesn’t have to pay you a thing; I’m fortunate to work for someone who did, and I’m very thankful for that. For my involvement, I got paid $6 for day one, and $40 for day two, which technically does not even cover the expenses of lunch and mileage. Seems like blood money, too.

Despite the judge’s words, I felt anything but free while enduring this onerous obligation. I was forced to abandon my job for two days, forced to drive a long distance, forced to go through a metal detector and proceed, unarmed, into an area full of armed guards. I could not communicate with the outside world, nor could I speak my true mind for fear of further imprisonment. There were no clocks and no windows within the courtrooms. The court administrator threatened us, indicating that armed men would show up at our doorstop if we neglected to return the next morning.

I felt badly for the defendant, but was far more interested in extricating myself from imprisonment, and that’s perhaps the worst crime of all. Some of the people that the defendants need most on the jury are doing everything they can to get out.

Some folks are born made to wave the flag,

Ooh, they’re red, white and blue.

And when the band plays hail to the chief,

Ooh, they point the cannon at you, lord,

It aint me, it aint me, I aint no senators son, son.

It aint me, it aint me; I aint no fortunate one, no,

Some folks are born silver spoon in hand,
Lord, don’t they help themselves, oh.

But when the taxman comes to the door,

Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes,

It aint me, it aint me, I aint no millionaires son, no.

It aint me, it aint me; I aint no fortunate one, no,

Some folks inherit star spangled eyes,

Ooh, they send you down to war, lord,

And when you ask them, how much should we give?

Ooh, they only answer more! more! more! yoh,

It aint me, it aint me, I aint no military son, son.

It aint me, it aint me; I aint no fortunate one, one.

It aint me, it aint me, I aint no fortunate one, no no no,

It aint me, it aint me, I aint no fortunate son, no no no,

(Taken from Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Fortunate Son,” lyrics by John Fogerty).

Her Highness needs assistance in spotting the futility of her campaign:

Uncle Sam has a “robust program” for kids on the battlefield:

The Empire and other world tyrants will not part with their deadly play things:

The state’s newest creation- a $520 million backhoe……

…..Oops- another fake studio job?

Moms kick state butt:

True democracy in Iraq in impossible without retina scans:

Slick finds a bitch that won’t throw lamps at him:

Full spectrum dominance of the battle space will soon include your humble abode:

US crusaders try a new tactic- scarecrows to scare off those pesky insurgents….

… so as to avoid those annoying close calls:

Oops- did the Anointed One leak her secret strategy for victory……..?

Obama may want to keep his eyes open and watch his back:

Your America gets prepared for another day to glorify war…..

….. and create new excuses to justify bloodshed:

The Supreme Warlord of the Earth takes a ride on his chariot.  Will he now sacrifice this joy in solidarity with the troops?:

Jo Mac is sensing a “lack of confidence” among the empire’s subjects:

Just how many commodes will it take to finally flush the state?

Can’t you just feel the love?

The NAACP get a new prez. But is he “colored” enough?

Business is looking slow for the salvation brokers:

Who has more class- lovers of peace or the war freaks?

The jack boot is updated to accommodate the metro and trans-sexuals:

Maybe Fusionman will rescue us:

The essence of marriage- the ol’ Ball and Chain:

The Emperor greets the one man he dare not boss:

US Crusaders are always on the look out for easy targets:

Your cash ain’t nothin’ but trash:

After decades of sticking its nose into other people’s business (and getting its ass kicked), maybe this should be the new symbol of Amerikan nationalism:

Why can’t we all just get along? Lenin and Czar Nicholas II have a chat:

Golfing in the Green Zone. Just the beginning of much larger imperial plans:

Prepare to be stimulated:

The jack boots protect us from evil doers, no matter the size or species:

Hitting the water pipe now and then takes the edge off of war:

A global warming fanatic’s wet dream:

Military recruiters try a more honest approach:

Hillary is a cinch to win the panhandler vote:

Is Her Highness ready to take a swing at Obama or merely strike out in her shell game with gasoline taxes?

One reason why the world is such a mess:

The Emperor takes a bow after he solves the country‘s economic problems (why didn‘t I think of that?):

A wonderful fantasy-  The last person is leaving DC on a wet, miserable day and has turned out the lights:

How much more misery are the Iraqi people capable of enduring?

The HIV fraud turns painful. Say farewell to the foreskin and common sense:

With the Real ID in trouble, the powers that be have another way for you to carry the Amerikan brand:

Sweeping up the Lincoln myths- a never ending job:

I think Princess Jenna is explaining to the little ones why Daddy is “saving their lives.” Or is she reading five year old, Bush-inspired fairy tales?

Some politicians manifest their gangster mentality better than others:

Hillary is a cinch to win the balloon animal vote: