Somebody needs to grease the wheels of justice...

...preferably with the oleaginous innards of plaintiffs in pointless court cases.

I've finally after two days escaped the clutches of The Man, who conscripted me to jury duty with the great state of Georgia's Superior Court, Chatham County. This was especially unpleasant for me, since I'd worked from Sunday at 11:00 am to 5:30 am Monday while we started running our new press live for the first time... then realized I had to report to the courthouse by 9:00 am or risk a wakeup call from a Sheriff's deputy. The fact that I was nodding off during selection didn't seem to weigh heavily on the attorney, plaintiff or court staff and as fate would have it, I was appointed Juror #2 and thusly seated to decide the fate of a couple's divorce.

Here are the highlights in no particular order:

- Possession of the house, the cars, and custody of the unfortunate spawn of the couple in question had been decided long before my 11 compatriots and I were assigned. What's left to fight over? Not much. But that didn't stop them from taking 8 hours on Monday and 10 today to get it over with.

- Sage advice: If your estranged spouse has retained a lawyer, you probably ought to get yourself one as well. Especially if you have a habit of stammering, repeating yourself every two minutes, and inadvertently introducing evidence that incriminates you. This didn't impact the outcome, but it would have been nice to move things along at a faster pace.

- The deputy Sheriff that kept an eye on us looked and sounded like a skinnier Barry White. He refused to sing for us.

- One of the deputies leading us into the jury room thought I was carrying a can of beer (it was tea). He didn't stop me. Interesting.

- The wife's attorney had the most annoying voice I'd heard since Fran Drescher. I wanted to club her like a baby seal.

- I almost cried when the judge sent us BACK to the jury room because our foreperson had confused the defendant and plaintiff on the verdict form.