Protecting Children

Officials in Culpeper County, Virginia, have decided that students there shall no longer be assigned Anne Frank's diary as part of their education. It's just too damned sexy. Really.

A whole family being hunted down and killed along with millions of other innocent people? That's fine for the kids. A young girl musing about her changing body and dealing with new feelings? We must shield the children from such terrible things.

Congratulations Culpeper County. You are now Maniacal Hooting's official Most Embarrassing Place in America ™.

The Verdict

As you may have heard, I had jury duty this month. A fellow juror told us that one of his co-workers had asked him if he was on a fun case or a boring case. The answer is neither. Ours was a case of the rape of an eleven year old girl.

The prosecution's star witness was the victim, now sixteen. She looked and acted like an average teenage girl. She told her story, occasionally fighting back tears, in stark, simple terms. It was not easy to listen to. She was very credible, and nothing was presented that suggested any reason that she might lie.

The defense's star witness was the defendant himself. He did not do himself any favors on the stand. He was defensive, evasive, and not credible at all. He was a gift to the prosecutor. During cross examination I looked over at his attorney. Her head was down and her face was hidden behind her hands. She looked unwell.

To make things worse for the defendant, we learned that he had been in possession of child pornography. When the prosecution rested we didn't know much about that. Was it just a few images along with lots of adult porn? Details were sketchy. After the defendant's testimony we knew for certain that he had a fairly keen interest in the subject, and did not deny that he had posted child porn to more than one on-line group.

We deliberated for about five and a half hours. My fellow jurors wanted to go over every detail of the case, to deal fully with every possible doubt, and even a few impossible doubts. No one wanted to get it wrong. No one wanted to send an innocent man to jail. For some of us even the possibility was too much to bear.

Over time and after much discussion, thought, and agonizing, we came to the only reasonable conclusion. Guilty.

Marching back into the courtroom to deliver the verdict was a bit difficult. In that courtroom the jury enters from behind the judge's desk and walks past the defense table. I suppose the defendant was watching us as we came in, looking for some sign. I don't really know. I tried not to focus on anything. When we got to the jury box I looked around the room. The victim was near the back on the prosecution side, surrounded by friends and family. Sitting just behind the defendant were his father and brothers. I had noticed the father earlier in the trial. He was bent over with age and troubles, but he had the look of a tough old guy. The Eagle, Globe, and Anchor on his jacket told me how he had served our country. He deserved better than to have to hear this. He had sat there while his son had revealed his sexual inadequacies and his fondness for naked children. As this had gone on he was slumped over. He was devastated. I was glad that his other sons were with him.

Our foreman read the verdict. Guilty. “So say you all?” Yes. For some reason I still couldn't look right at the defendant, now the convicted child rapist. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, almost like looking at the sun. I saw no reaction, as if he was prepared for it. One of his brothers fell back into his seat in obvious disappointment. From my angle I couldn't see the victim.

The court officer walked us out of the courtroom and back into the deliberation room. We had to wait a few minutes. The judge wanted to speak to us, thank us for our service, that sort of thing. The alternates rejoined us (it is a 12 person jury who deliberates, but 14 hear the case; two alternates are chosen randomly). They both said that they agreed with the verdict. One of the court officers congratulated us. That officer, who had seen far more of the proceedings than the jury, said that it was “a great, good verdict.” The judge joined us. He told us something that couldn't have been revealed to us before. The bad guy had not only been investigated for child porn, but had served a three year probation after having been convicted of the crime. The judge said that in his experience child rape was a terrible crime (of course) that left victims struggling and pained for years. He told us that he interviewed potential jurors for cases like this one in the past. That is done, of course, to determine if they have any bias. He has had grown men tell him that they were sexually assaulted as children, then break down, cry, and say that until that moment they had never told that to anyone before. It's hard to imagine that much pain hidden away in a human soul. He said that this sort of crime occurred far more frequently than most people imagine, and that the pattern of moving from child porn to child rape was something he saw often.

I thought the judge did a fine job. He explained things clearly and impressed upon us his feeling that the jury is the most important part of any trial. I was also impressed by the court officers. They did their jobs with professionalism and courtesy. It is good to know that justice is administered by such people.

It is a dark, miserable thing to deal with this side of humanity. It must be done, and in a free society it must be done by the citizens. This time it fell to me, and to thirteen other people, all of whom displayed decency, thoughtfulness, and good will. It was an honor to serve with them.

Strange January

It has been quite a month so far. It started with me getting sick. I haven't had a cold in years, so I guess I was due, but that thought didn't comfort me. While I should have been drinking fluids and getting bed rest, there was a problem at work -- a partial ceiling collapse. That was all kinds of fun. Once that was taken care of I had jury duty. I had to serve, and that was no fun at all. I'll tell you about it in a few days. Then we had a special election here in the Bay State. You may have heard something about it. That same week my computer died. The repair estimate was roughly the same as what I had paid for the thing. New computer time, so I'm way the heck over budget for the month, of course. Then, finally, a business trip. And just so you know, I hate travel.

Today's low point: rough weather in a Dash-8. Getting bounced around in my seat and being pulled in odd directions is not my idea of fun.

Today's high points: rainbows. I saw the first one out the window of the plane. It was small in size, brief in duration, below me, and a perfect circle. It was a pretty thing. The second was quite large and even more brief, spotted up a hill at the end of a street above me. I walked toward it to get a better look, but it faded away as I reached the end of the road.

No pot of gold either time.

Normality, one hopes, will be returning soon.

The Best Policy

Good news! Boston Police Commissioner Edward Davis has announced a new policy. Boston police officers will no longer be permitted to lie under oath. Lying on police reports is, of course, still acceptable.

These new "civil rights" we keep hearing about do make one quite giddy.

No Toaster?

Today is Edgar Poe's 201st birthday and for the first time in about 60 years the Poe Toaster failed to appear. I've always had the feeling that the new Toaster was motivated by family tradition rather than devotion to Mr Poe. Those notes he would occasionally leave, opining about football and France, gave me the impression that his heart wasn't into it. Perhaps it is time for the Toaster Nevermore. Maybe someone should start a less morbid tradition here in Boston. Two roses at his birthplace, one for him, one for Eliza, and no booze. That might be a nice project. For now I'll offer my own toast (with tea; it's a bit early for cognac and I'm more of a bourbon man anyway). To Muddy. To Sissy. And to dear old Eddie himself. Cheers from Frogpondium.

Blue Screen of Death

It looks like my PC just gave up the ghost. I guess I should try to fix it.

Sigh.

I'm a PC, and I turn into a paperweight.

I, the Jury

Just a quick status update. I'm on a jury. It's a criminal case, which is about all I can say. I'll probably be serving for several more days.

The Spaceman Answer

Well, I gave it almost a month, but nobody got my spacemen question. Last month I asked if you could name the first person to take off from the earth in a spacecraft, reach space, and then fly that spacecraft safely back to the surface of our planet. The answer is Alan Shepard in Freedom 7. While Yuri Gagarin was the first person to reach space, he did not fly his spacecraft, Vostok 1, back to our planet. Soviet rocket scientists felt that the cosmonaut would not survive a landing (they were surely right – Vostok is said to have left a nice little crater), so Gagarin bailed out of the plummeting ship about four miles up. He parachuted into a farm, where he asked the first people that he met for a phone so he could call Moscow and tell them that he was alive. I wonder, what is the Russian word for cojones?

Our Civic Duty

I've got jury duty next week. Yes, it is a pain, but it is a civic responsibility. Jury duty is part of the democratic bulwark that holds back tyranny. I have no patience for anyone who tries to get out of it. That's why I'm ticked off at Sal Esposito from East Boston. He tried to squirm out of his duty but the jury commissioner was having none of it. Sal is going to have to show up at the courthouse like everybody else. As if being a cat was an excuse. Ridiculous. Cats make excellent jurors. They are well known for their impartiality. They are fully capable of sitting and doing nothing for hours at a time. They are good observers. And the fact that they are highly judgmental demonstrates that they are capable of judgment.

I for one say that it is about time that feline freeloaders like Sal contribute something to society.

Never a Good Sign

The sound of helicopters hovering over your neighborhood is usually a pretty bad omen. It turns out that a large apartment building a few blocks from us is on fire. We can't see it from here, but there's a lot of black smoke off to the west. A lot of people just lost their homes. I do hope no one was hurt.

Early reports say it is a six-alarm fire and the locals have called in help from several towns.

Grim.

UPDATE: Three or four residents were treated for smoke inhalation, three firefighters were also treated for minor injuries. About 40 to 50 people lived there.

Still Dragging

Just an update -- I'm feeling a lot better. I may even get to sleep without drugs tonight. Well, just the usual drugs, but nothing extra. Still pretty wiped out. This afternoon I was working on a little project at my desk when I passed out. Roused myself, got back to it, then out again. Figured a little nap might help, so I hit the couch, figuring I'd just close my eyes for a few minutes. I opened my eyes two hours later.

I'm not feeling particularly productive.

Again I say, blah.

Found Book

I found a book on my way home tonight. It's called The Mall of Cthulhu. Never heard of it, but it looks fairly amusing. Anyway, if you lost your copy in the Boston area today, let me know. Otherwise, I'll just add it to the Maniacal Library.

By the way, I still feel pretty crummy, but I'm getting better.

Lovely Day For a Guinness

250 years ago today Arthur Guinness signed a 9000 year lease for the Saint James Gate Brewery. I think that's worth celebrating. Cheers!

I'm Sick

I hate being sick. Haven't been sick for a couple of years. Aches, pains, coughing, sniffles, fever, the usual stuff. You think I can get away from work? Ha! Had to come in today to take care of a problem. I shouldn't have gotten out of bed but I was climbing ladders and running things. And the commute was fun too. It's 14 degrees out there with a high wind. Feels great. I'll be back to work tomorrow to deal with contractors as well as the usual stuff. As for now, I'm going to bed.

Blah.

All I Want

Is snow plows with frickin' laser beams attached to their frickin' blades. Is that too much to ask?

And to All a Good Night

I wrote a little essay about my troubled relationship with Christmas, but it was so depressing that I decided to drop it in a file. No point bringing everyone else down. As for you, I hope you have a good holiday.

Nuke the Sun!

The sun – man's oldest enemy. It bathes the earth with deadly radiation. It is the principle cause of global warming. It melts the icecaps, causes droughts and dust storms, and blinds those foolish enough to gaze upon it. The sun is a leading cause of cancer, auto accidents, and heat stroke. Today, on this winter solstice, when we are mercifully free of the sun's malevolence for more hours than any other day of the year, I call upon Congress and the President to finally end the the tyranny of Sol, put our military might to constructive purpose, and fulfill our destiny to destroy the sun.

Thank you and good night.

Other Owls, Number Five – Mr. Owl

Yes, that Mr. Owl. Philosopher, pundit, collegian, and corporate shill. Only Mr. Owl has the wisdom to embrace uncertainty. Some would say that by cutting short the experiment by biting into the confection he proved himself unequal to the challenge posed by the boy, but I would defend his actions. First of all, the question was impossible to answer. There can be no final determinant of the how many licks question because of the variables involved. Size, roughness, and wetness of the tongue are just a few of the more significant variables. Mr. Cow*, for example, would surely require fewer licks than, say, Mr. Turtle. By ending the discussion as he did, Mr. Owl pointed out the absurdity of the question. I would also point out that while the spirit of the experiment may have been violated in the view of the boy, Mr. Owl did, in fact, answer the question accurately. Knowing that the answer must be necessarily different depending on the person licking the sweetmeat, he could only give the answer appropriate to his own circumstance. There was nothing in the phrasing of the question that prohibited biting. Therefore, Mr. Owl gave a correct answer in stating that it took only three licks, followed by a bite, to complete the assigned task. Any further effort on his part would be foolish, and Mr. Owl is by no means foolish.



Mr. Owl. Paragon of wisdom and candy fancier.

*And can someone explain Mr. Cow to me? By definition a cow is a female animal, but Mr. Cow is clearly not a female. Who is this gender bending bovine?

The Weird Books Room

Folderol points us to AbeBooks UK's Weird Books Room. Very interesting volumes within. I love the cover for Soldier Bear and find myself intrigued by The Romance of Proctology and Bombproof Your Horse. I was surprised to see one book that I've read. The Social History of the Machine Gun is actually quite good.

Trivial Hoot Seven

OK, so nobody got my last question about a space traveler, but I am undaunted. Here's another space-based challenge. Can you name the first person to take off from the earth in a spacecraft, reach space, and then fly that spacecraft safely back to the surface of our planet?

That should be easy, right?