Statistically it was bound to happen – though your chances get better in St. Louis when you move out of the city like we did in 2k3.

So… my number came up.

and I went into Clayton… and sat..

and sat.

and sat.

and then got called down to a courtroom… 36 of us, out of which 12 would be selected after a process called “Voir Dire”.

I got picked…. meh.

Apparently you can get out of the inconvenience of civic duties if you:

• Blatantly lie about a health condition – but put on a good inconsistent show by holding your abdomen when talked to.

• Are a racist jack-off.

• A mincing, contrary hyper-liberal.

• Slow.

The prosecutor though is a young cutie who’s a dead-ringer for my friend Julie in Chicago.

I made smiley eyes, somewhat unintentionally – though the Voir Dire process at her.

She’d return them.

I started to worry / wonder…

“Maybe she’ll think I’m cute and let me go.”

or.

“Maybe she’ll think I’m a psycho and not pick me.”

wrong on both counts.

So – I’ll be resting my case at the Courthouse the next few days.

fun fun fun – more monkey armchair socio-anthropology studies!

*Waves*