Jury of Your Peers

"Just when I thought I wuz out they pulled me back in!"  The other day it crossed my mind that it was time for another jury summons.  Should have never crossed my mind as come last Friday a jury summons addressed to Bob arrived in the mail.  There was one for Wifey, too.

The summons says to call the County Clerk's Office on Monday evening after 5 to find if I am  needed.  Everyone is assigned a group number.   Me?  I'm in group three and certain to be called to report Tuesday.  Wifey got lucky and is in group twenty-five.  Twenty-five or more jury groups means there's a big trial coming up or a whole bunch of them waiting in line to be heard.

I never get picked to sit on a jury.  I'm interviewed by the judge, prosecuting and defending attorneys.  Then one of them objects to my sitting on the jury and the judge excuses me.  You know the drill.  Is it my breath?  What I wear?  How I comb the hair on my head?  Or is it the shoes on my feet?

Never sitting on a jury is all about what Bob does for a living.   The jury pickers (you know who I mean) realize and rightfully so, that leaders lead.  Leaders persuade.  Leaders manipulate.  Leaders dig their feet in until everyone agrees with his or her point of view.  I'd do just that. 

And another thing.  An accused has the right to a jury of their peers.  Dope dealers.  Wife beaters.  Child molesters.  Robbers.  Etc.   I'm one of their peers?  Not lately.

Come Tuesday I'll do my civic duty which means sitting for a large part of the day to be ushered into a court room and then spend what's left in the day listening the judge and attorneys interview the pool of jurors.  Having a last name beginning with W means Bob will be sucking hind tit in the jury pool.  I'll be close to dead last to be interviewed. 

Better buy a tube of hemorrhoid ointment.  It's going to be a long time sitting on my ass come next week.