Forgiving! Unforgiving! And Proud of it!

My radiant birthday - I’m fuzzy-filled with la dolce vita of love lavished by my warm, wonderful friends, and I’ve been fairy-floating on a cloud. All the keen kindness means a lot to me, coming after the cruel coming of this year.

On my birthday, I always look back to all the despised persons that I’m holding something – anything – hideous against, and I fondly forgive them. I let it go. I did the same this morning. So, officially, I’m loving everybody freely.

BUT NOT THE SMOOTH-FACED SHE DEVIL! I hate her, I hate her, I hell-hate her! I still hope she comes to no good end. I will not forgive her. I so wish she had not called me today. But, then, I spat on her false birthday wishes!

Wednesday, I Love You

I love Wednesday. Because Kiz and I like to hang out on weeknights (so why not Wednesday?) Then there's all those crowded weekends at all the fun places, and I'm a crowd-hater. Maybe it's because Monday's long gone, and Friday's finger-flirting with me from a fraudulent distance. Or because, by Wednesday, I've really got into the groove of the working week. Maybe it's because of that pair of Delilah-licious, luscious legs that lap-dance beneath my office window, at 5 O'clock, every Wednesday.

Nice to meet you. Who are you?

This is earnest embarrassing and not very 'pc', but whenever I meet someone for the very first time, I usually want to know something scandalous about them. I mean prison-scandalous, sexual-scandalous, integrity-scandalous, profession-scandalous, snobbery-scandalous, bigotry-scandalous, etc, etc.



It is not to hold it, nurture it, warp it, hide it, and let it out at a deviously damaging time. It is just to feed fat my human curiosity, and the belief that there's no closet without skeleton. Of course, for the average person that I meet, the locker is disappointingly as clean as a whistle.

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!