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 