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« Early to Rise, My Ass... Or Rather, Their Asses | Main | Big Fat Funky... Fever! »

Counselor, You Are Out of Order! I Object!

Do they really have to say, 'Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law?' Isn't that redundant? I mean, if it will be used against you, then obviously, it can be used against you. Why not just say, 'will'? How many times have cops had to delay their doughnut 'n' coffee run and take the time to say those two extra words? It's just damned unfair!

By the way, in case you're wondering, this thought didn't come to mind because I've been recently cuffed up and tossed in the drunk tank with the rummies and the streetwalkers, or anything like that. Or the rummied-up streetwalkers, which are the very bestest kind, of course.

Actually, I've just been watching a couple of hours of Law and Order. And there are a lot of people on that show that get locked up, and wrist-shackled, and read their rights. So I've heard the 'in a court of law' bit quite a few times this evening, and it's finally starting to bug me.

On the other hand, I'm thinking that some of the other phrases featured on the show could come in mighty handy around the office. Meaning, of course, that I might be able to use them to make people stop talking to me so damned often. Observe:

Imagine you're me.

(Okay, okay, stop screaming, fer chrissakes. Get out from under the couch. Sheesh. You big baby. Let's try that again.)

Imagine you're someone in my general situation, more or less.

(What? Still too terrifying? Oh, fine. Wuss.)

So, imagine you work in an office of some kind. But not the kind I work in, since that would apparently send you into a convulsive pants-peeing episode. Now, imagine that you have meetings in that office, and that people are always grabbing you to talk about work, and plan out work, and dream up still more work, no matter how much work there already is to do.

(Not my kind of work, of course. Don't worry. Just breathe.)

Okay, you with me so far? Now, let's say you're in one of these meetings, feeling your very soul drain down and spiral clockwise out your sphincter while the next six years of your twelve-hour workdays are planned out for you.

(Of course, if you're south of the equator, like our good friend Miz Monkey, then your soul is gonna spiral counterclockwise out your ass. Not to bring Monkey's ass into this or anything. I just don't want you to get confused if your hindquarters don't perform quite the way I've described above. 'Your heinie mileage may vary', as it were. Perfectly normal.)

All right, where the hell was I? Ah, in a soul-sucking meeting. Right. Charging on, then.

So, you're stuck in this meeting, with no hope of ever getting out of the damned thing and leading a normal life. Ah, but that's where Law and Order comes to the rescue. Just think of the myriad of things you could whip out of the show and use to rescue yourself. For one, you could try yelling out:

'Either charge me, or let me go home! I know my rights, dammit!'

Belligerence not your bag? (Yeah, right. Then what are you doing here, hmmm?) Well, fine. How about taking the strong, assured approach:

'You really expect me to believe that story? Forget it. I'll see you in court.'

Or maybe you'd be more comfortable impersonating a judge:

'The prisoner is hereby remanded to his cell. We're taking a recess. Court adjourned!'

Of course, any of these little ploys might only help you with your insanity plea -- even if you get out of the meeting, there'll likely be consequences and repercussions. But desperate meetings call for desperate measures. Sometimes the only thing that'll save your soul is a big set of brass ones and a mouthful of legalspeak.

Wait, did I say 'save' your soul? That sounds a helluva lot more like it'll 'damn' your soul, or at least get your soul's ass kicked. Eh, what the hell do I know? All I do is sit in meetings all day. Yeah, I'm probably not the guy you should be taking career advice from. Case closed.








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Stop talking about my arse!

(That's right, not only does my soul spiral counter-clockwise out of it, but hereabouts we call it an arse.)

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