Jury duty is our duty as citizens, right? I suppose. I certainly have the time, if not the inclination, to play the courthouse game on April 2, the date I’ve been told to report to the Travis County courthouse downtown to receive a court assignment.
Allegedly. Allegedly, because I expect to be cut from the jury pool, after walking multiple blocks from wherever I can find a place to park, for the usual reasons: too much education, relation to a law enforcement officer, thirty-five years in the news media, and blogging since then about, among other things, politics and public policy.
The defense lawyers of my aquaintance tend not to want people like me on their juries. I’m not as easy to impress as someone else with none of the above. So I expect to spend an unpleasant day in the courthouse where the linoleum halls are perfumed with the sour flop-sweat of old fears; to be herded about at the whim of self-important functionaries; and, finally, to have to pay a hefty parking ticket because I won’t be allowed to feed the meter.
THE TEXAS SCRIBBLER 
I know a person (US citizen, of course, we don’t have juries here) that succeeds to get out of jury duty every time he is called. He usually invents some views that get him thrown out by both sides.
And he doesn’t have your imagination, so…
Mrs. C. said to tell them I blog about politics from a Libertarian viewpoint and then to ask the judge if I can blog about the trial I’m assigned to—before, during or after? That might do the trick.
I do have some views neither side is likely to appreciate, such my growing dislike for cops. If they ask, I’ll tell. Probably not otherwise. But I still think any defense lawyer with a brain is going to remove me.
No juries? Lordy. Remind me not to wind up in an Israeli court.