A Peak at Ginx IRL

The past month or so has been quite busy for me. My wife got a job offer, so I’m moving down to the *sigh* south. I look forward to continuing our war of northern aggression on the “Americans” who wouldn’t even be able to call themselves that if their ancestors hadn’t made such shitty soldiers.

Anyway… I also got a job offer, and I start training this Monday. I even get paid for training. It would be the first paycheck I earned since I was laid off last year, except…

On Tuesday, I had jury duty. It was at 8:15am. I’m kind of a morning person, so not a big deal. I woke up, walked to the train station, took the train downtown, and found the building. Metal detectors, forms, waiting, waiting, waiting… I was juror number 52 in my group, which is great, because that meant I was probably not going to be one of the first 15 picked. They start at 1 and eliminate until they fill the jury, then the rest go home.

The problem is, we got moved from the comfy waiting area to a courtroom with uncomfortable wooden benches, where we watched a video and sat for two hours until eleven. Then they gave us a two hour lunch. Now, the summons said not to bring a cell phone, so I didn’t. This meant I had no way of telling time. Luckily, I knew of a Wendy’s downtown that was next to a bank. They had one of those clocks with the temperature scrolling by. So I sat down in Wendy’s, had my lunch, and read Norse Mythology until 12:30.

Back at the courthouse, we wait another two hours on the hard wooden pews that remind me of church. Then all sixty of us move up to the fifth floor in shifts by elevator. We stand around for another hour and a half until… the judge approaches us with the words we all want to hear:

“I want to first say thank you, your service is up.”

She then explained that the trial wasgoing through difficulties. It was a death penalty case that would have taken at least two weeks, so everyone went from whiney to elated in an instant. I secretly wonder if it was a lie to make us feel better (I wouldn’t put it past them). Then again, the truth is often stranger than fiction.

During one of the long waits, I was in a conversation about the selection, and a guy said he had been picked recently. He points out there’s over a million people in the city but they said they only take 85,000 jurors per year on some old tape we watched. I pointed out that some people aren’t eligible, like children or non-citizens. He scoffed and said, “Well if they’re not a citizen, they should get the fuck out.”

I rolled my eyes in lieu of kicking him in the balls. “Yeah… except more immigrants are here legally, not everyone hops the Mexican border. And you know what? If they make it up to Pennsylvania, I think they’ve proven their dedication.”

In my head after: “What’d you do to enter this country? Fall out of some dumb bitch’s cunt who couldn’t teach her kid any better? You’re white ass is gonna stand here on American soil and act like you bloomed from the fucking ground? It’s people like you who should get the fuck out. Go back to the fucking fatherland where you can be surrounded by your inbred kind.”

I swear, no matter where you go, dumb people manage to cross the street without dying. It’s a crying shame. This is the only consolation I can take from knowing I’m moving to the south. I’m leaving these Mid-Atlantic racists for southern racists.

I have to say, people here are specific racists. They divide white people up into every possible distinction: Jewish, Scottish, Irish, English, Dutch, German, Austrian, Hungarian, Czech, Swedish, Norwegian, Italian, Sicilian… it’s pretty fucking specific. I don’t know about you guys, but my eyesight isn’t good enough for me to physically be that racist. I would need a new pair of glasses if I was going to commit to hating people with such specificity. Also, I’d need a crash course on recognizing the origin of last names… and European geography… and history… I am just way too stupid to be that racist.

Fair warning: if you defend the south in the comments, I will be required by yankee law to unleash a torrent of equally unflattering and unfounded insults into your general direction. If that fails, I’ll castrate you by kicking your sister in the chin. Is that still annoying to hear after the 1000th time?