Me and the City of Mission...
This morning I had the lovely privilege of going to court in the wonderful City of Mission, State of Kansas. Arriving a few minutes before 8 my number was 45. That meant, 44 people... cases... dockets.. in front of me before I could stand in front of the judge and plead my case. Funny thing was, I some how got stuck in the front row. Grrr... and what I thought was going to make matters worse was the name of the judge. Honorable Judge Drill. I sh!t you not! His last name was Drill. In my brain I figured I was screwed.
I noticed something in common from all those slowly, languidly walking towards the judge when their number was called. You could tell they were guilty and wicked as their shoulders were rolled forward with fear, their backs had what would best be described as a small lump of anxiety, and every person who was "innocent until proven guilty" had eyes swelling with panic, like that of a frightened child, as they explained their reason with sorrow laden lyrics.
Once liberated, continued, or dismissed an air of joy and hope, freedom and happiness filled them as they confidently strolled out of court and out into the world... presumably to prove the fatal American flaw we all live by, "It's only wrong if you get caught."
I did wonder, as the court was only on docket number 24 by this time, if the laws created by man to protect man were too difficult for man to abide by? I suspect the answer's No, it just costs a lot to be Free... and today I paid for my Freedom. America, F**k Yeah!
PS-Judge Drill was and is an honest and good man. Just wanna make that proclamation.