Up the Tree

Our good friends Steve and Amy just got a new cat and we’re all very excited. It’s a gray little thing and Amy promises that she’s a princess.

_But that’s what all mother’s say._

What’s the name of your… pet?

I know it’s my civic responsibility to be a juror. I know thousands of people have died to give me the opportunity to judge my peers. I know I should be proud to serve my country as a juror, but damn it, I don’t want to do it.

I will, of course, serve my city as a juror — partly because of the patriotic responsibility, but mostly because of the $1,000 fine and impending imprisonment. The unfortunate part about being a juror is that not only does it hamper my work, but it could cost me my jobs. The infernal system is so backward that they don’t care if you’re one of two employees at a firm that has projects that must move forward, regardless of the state waving it’s magical wand declaring that life should be held until I’m done.

This is a major obstruction to me.

It’s not like I’m a cog in some corporate superstructure that can maintain motion without me. I work in a family business with 2 employees of which I am one. Me leaving for however many days it takes, essentially reduces our profitability by 50%. Luckily the state understands this and is giving me a whole $40 a day as payment!

*FAN-TASTIC!*
_Thanks New York State._

Why not pay people some real money as incentive? $200 a day with an option to use all money earned as juror to be doubled if the money is put into 5 year bond. That might at least make people care about sitting on a bench.

It’s hard to begin to know where to begin.

Diane’s mother was rushed to the Hospital last week, complaining about discomfort in her chest. The doctors decided that if it were some sort of an infection, that they should treat it immediately with antibiotics, for fear it might cause complications with her emphysema. Fearing that the antibiotics would fatigue her system they then prescribed steroids to help her body cope with the antibiotics. Since she was now strung out on medications which elevated Diane’s mother’s discomfort, the doctors then prescribed Librium to calm her down.

*A cocktail of prescriptions later*

The doctors still have no idea what’s wrong, or if there is anything wrong, but that hasn’t stopped them from handing out drugs like confetti at the _macy’s day parade._

*Cut to*

Our very good friend Lorraine falls off a stool and shatters her leg and requires serous surgery. Don’t ask me how, because I don’t know how exactly one would shatter a leg falling off a stool, but she did.

_So, promise me you’ll all wear seat belts and look both ways before crossing the street._