20 Years for Big Feet

In our early days as lawyers, Kiz and I were compelled to defend a man charged with robbery. We fancied that we were smarter than the State prosecutors, and that we would get him off on smarts alone.

Now, the accused person was a giant of a man, who topped something like 6 feet 7 inches. He stood tall and proud, despite our advice to slouch a bit. Boy, did he look menacing! In spite of that, we could tell that we were winning. We were connecting with the jury by the manner in which we were 'destroying' the prosecution witnesses one by one.

One witness, though, was irrepressible. She recounted how her family was made to lie face down, in order not to be able to recognise the robbers by face later on. But, that turned out to be a tragic mistake. The witness remembered that the lead robber had huge, huge, bare feet.

As if hypnotized, everybody (judge, lawyers, jurors, clerks, and the onlooking public) turned to look at our client's feet. They were enormous! And he had no shoes on! Thankfully, he got 20 years or so!

Random Questions

Could the AG quit criticising every court ruling?
Why wasn't Taiwan's murderous mudslide foreseen?
Can the alive Mehsud please stand up?
Could we all spare a thought for Aung San Suu Kyi?

Poisoned Chocolate

Imagine that A keeps a bar of poisoned choc in a fridge he uses together with B, C and D. One of them gleefully gobbles the toxic confectionary without leave, and drops dead. Forget the law. Is the bigger moral issue that A intentionally placed the death-dealing choc in the common fridge, or is it the fatal dishonesty of the chocolate-pinching corpse?

Panadian Cassport

Yes, it is the totally talented Office Female #2, again! A serial killer of the lovely language, English. Reflecting on the lofty level of vampire violence she does to speaking the Victorian Vernacular, she should be guilty of grammar-genocide. She was just telling me about this frivolous fille who only married a mean man because he had a Panadian Cassport!

Friends Who Come Shopping

A naked and hungry fridge stood whingeing in my kitchen after a marauding cousin’s visit. I made my woozy protests here. Office Female #1 and I were Texas-bragging today about the newfangled gizmos we each had at home. After tidily trapping me to name all the thriftless, twentieth-century toys that I did not truly own, she laughed and teased that I’d obviously not heard about the quickly-coming concept of going shopping in a friend’s house.

Talk Airtime

Office Female Number Two
Gets more confused than me and you

She buys airtime for her cell phone
While reviewing a corporate loan

She lifts the handset to the land line
With dialogue, she tries to combine

We thought she was going to make a call
But what came next was a shock to all

One by one, the buttons are hit
She 'loads' the land phone with call credit!

Life – Breast-Savers

Breasts save lives. It’s official, oddly enough. It wafts from the wonderful WHO. Okay, when I walked the wickedly-promising article, it was tediously talking up the breastfeeding of babies; it may save their lives in medical emergencies. But I failed to glean those paediatrics from glancing at the caption (or did I pretend?). I was foraging for proof positive that the liberal, gleeful, dealing in breastices, by adults, would soundly secure safety or satisfaction in other urgencies. But, I’m just senseless silly. But am I the only one? Did you realise that the title of this post should properly be: Breasts – Lifesavers?