Every now and then, when I'm feeling particularly optimistic, I'll think, "We really got something here, with this whole legal system thing." Then I'll read an article like this and wonder how we're all still alive:
"PORTLAND, Oregon (AP) -- A New York man who pleaded guilty to murder in Oregon in exchange for buckets of fried chicken will get calzones and pizza to go with his life sentence."
You know what they call that? America. Apparently, Tremayne Durham, 33, of New York City, decided that he wanted to be an ice cream man and bought an 18,000 dollar truck (that is one of the most ridiculous sentences I have ever typed). He then decided that he DIDN'T want to become an ice cream man, but the company refused to refund him his money. I have to believe ice cream truck companies get a lot of this and that's why the no refund policy is in place. At least 90% of their orders have to be from people making "one night mistakes." They can't be having all their orders returned to them the next day-- when you make that call, your money is theirs. Obviously, what they really need to do to avoid such problems is institute either a question policy or a "Beetlejuice policy." The question policy would be, "Thank you for calling Ice Cream Trucks n' Stuff. Are you currently intoxicated in any way, either by alcohol, drugs, or major life achievement? If no, press 1. If yes, please press 2 for the 'Beetlejuice Policy.'" Then it'd go to the Beetlejuice policy that goes like this:
"Do you wanna be an ice cream man?"
"Yes."
"Do you wanna be an ice cream man?"
"Yes."
"Do you wanna be an ice cream man?"
"Yes."
Boom. Done. Sorry mister-- you ice cream man now. Unfortunately, that policy, nor any return policy was in place for Mr. Durham, who went on to kill a former Ice Cream Truck Company employee while trying to find the owner.
Anyway, Tremayne Durham went to trial and as part of his plea bargain, he demanded KFC chicken, Popeye's chicken, mashed potatoes, coleslaw, carrot cake and (yes) ice cream-- thereby taking great strides to firm up the stereotype that black people love fried chicken. The judge, in a brilliant comedic move (and pretty lazy too) agreed to the request, including the addendum that once he pled guilty, he would receive calzones, lasagna, pizza and ice cream (AGAIN!). Apparently, he was alright going to jail for murder, but he wanted, "a break from jail food." I'm not sure he'll actually end up getting any of the food for himself, but I am pretty sure he's going to win the Most Raped-edest Inmate award. While everyone else is eating sketchy stew and stale bread, he's gonna sit there with KFC and ice cream? He might as well get a "Shiv Me" face tattoo. I wouldn't even WALK BY a jail with a cookie-which, and Tremayne wants Popeye's...unbelievable. I guess that explains why the defense firm is willing to pay for the food-- they probably figure that it won't be for very long.
Now let's talk about the other part of the equation-- the part where our legal system bought a guilty plea for food stuffs. Isn't that some form of coercion? I mean, I think by this point we're all assuming Tremayne is a bit tubby, but even if he's not, you can't say, "Ok, we'll buy you food, but you have to admit you did it." That either means that they don't have enough evidence against him in the first place so they're buying his plea, or it means that they just want to go home. Either way, I don't feel great about it. And doesn't this set precedent for homeless people to just knife someone and get hooked up? Could I commit a lesser crime and maybe get some free Stacy's Pita Chips? Those suckers are expensive. "I'll admit to stealing that car, but I want to be sentenced to community service and get Dunkin Donuts Coolattas." I bet that'd backfire dramatically.
E.T. Finger:
There's still time to get in on a pool-- I still can't feel my finger! Special thanks to J-Kow for giving his medical opinion-- let's have more of that!
Cell Phone Shakes:
If I DO have one legal case in the works, it's for the cell phone companies. Recently, I've started feeling my cell phone vibrating even when it's not, leading me to look absolutely nuts when I reach for my phone and very unwanted when it turns out nobody called in the first place. It's the cell phone equivalent of saying, "Good," when someone asks, "What's up?" or saying "Bless you," when NOBODY sneezes. Awkward all around. So either it's mental and I'm always awaiting someone calling me, OR I'm actually developing a physical tick or muscle twitch thanks to my phone being on vibrate. Or maybe it's like how people say, "Someone's talking about you," when your ears are burning. Maybe, "Someone's utilizing their cell phone minutes to discuss something involving your name." Probably not though.
You can't spell, "Witz Has Muscular Dystrophy Without H-Y-P-H-Y,"
Witz
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Weird, I was just talking about phantom cell phone vibrations today. One of my buddies gets them, too. Not only do they give you cancer in the head, they eff up your upper thigh's sense of touch. Gah!
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