Like so much else, I often make choices about future occurences before they actually happen. I had always told myself that, if called, I would fulfil my civic duty and serve on a jury. I mean, sit around, get free food, decide a person’s fate, rail against perceived prejudice (like Twelve Angry Men or Fonzi in “Happy Days”), stay in a hotel if the day’s trial went late, etc.
Unfortunately, I’ve been summoned for jury duty for this coming Monday and, now that it’s happened, I have absolutely no interest in taking part. Most likely, it’s for the Hells Angels trial, and in my opinion those rat bastards can all rot. There were too many bars in my old neighbourhood that went up in flames last summer, some of them with apartments above, and it’s no fun coming home wondering whether your own place might become a victim to collateral damage. It also sucks to have a pool hall next door and not be able to go because it’s a biker hang-out.
Mind you, if I weren’t working I would probably go for it, if only to declare those arrested-development, fat-gut morons guilty. Well, that’s my rant.