Batson Challenges and Kardashians

random courtroom scene from Google Images

It's three a.m., and I need to be at the courthouse in five hours. I'm wide awake. I would like to write something profound, or at least non-idiotic, but if I started it, I'd feel obligated to finish even if I miraculously became sleepy. Instead, I'll spew forth my usual complete idiocy because it will not bother me to stop it mid-sentence, or even mid-word, if the slightest inclination for sleep possesses me.

I'm helping two attorneys with jury selection in a fairly serious trial. That's as much information as I can give out at this point. After the trial, I'm free to share what I want within reason. So far it's been quite interesting.

My job is to manage juror information so that what the attorneys need is readily accessible to them. Everything is coded  in terms of which answers given on written questionnaries merit follow-up questions if the  prospective juror inquestion actually makes it into one of the jurors' chairs. Then once the jurors make it to the hot seats and face the questions, additional color-coding happens based on their answers. My employers will attempt to have some prospective jurors dismissed for cause.  If there's not much of a chance of outright dismissal, they'll play it close to the vest in hopes that the defense attorney might unwittingly dismiss the same juror they'd like to remove. If any answers have been provided that have given my employers reason to believe the defense attorney might possibly toss a juror that my employers also would like to see ousted, the person is flagged and will be given a lower number in the peremptory challenge ranking in order to give opposing counsel plenty of time to bounce the presumably less favorable juror with one of her own peremptory challenges.

It's all very much like a giant chess game, and most intriguing. Even if I don't go to sleep tonight, I will have no trouble remaining awake and alert in court tomorrow.

I doubt we'll reach the peremptory challenge point tomorrow. An entire twelve-person jury plus four alternates, none of whom were dismissed for cause, must be seated before the peremptory challenge phase even begins. Then both sides will have twenty peremptory challenges, which  are essentially free bounces with no questions asked unless an attorney appears to be making peremptory challenges for the purpose of excluding a particular group from the jury, at which point the opposing counsel may make what is called a "Batson Challenge."

In a Batson Challenge,  the judge, after hearing arguments form both sides, determines whether prospective jurors have been systematically eliminated for no reason other than belonging to a particular group. The term comes from a case in Kentucky in which James Kirkland  Batson, a black defendant, was tried for burglary. Some blacks were removed from his jury for cause. The prosecuting attorney removed then remaining four blacks on the jury via peremptory challenge, resulting in an exclusively white jury. In appeals, it was concluded that the peremptory challenge privilege was abused and that jurors cannot be excluded solely on the basis of race. This ruling was later extended to include other potential groupings beyond race, including those of a religious nature.   A pattern of discriminatory exclusion must be present before a judge will hear a Batson Challenge. The first time an attorney uses a peremptory challenge to dismiss a juror, the peremptory challenge will be upheld. Only after opposing counsel can offer evidence of a pattern of exclusion of a group will a Batson Challenge be considered.

In a trial in which I helped pseudoaunt last winter, a very ignorant assistant district attorney issued a Batson challenge after pseudoaunt's very first peremptory challenge. The judge almost had a coronary over it, yelling at the guy and telling him that he [the judge] refused to conduct a review of Law 101 for the ADA. Pseudoaunt didn't know where in hell he was coming from. The ADA was far from a rookie.

I have non-reality tV playing in the background as I type. It's actually on the Kardashians. It's the episode in which the females tried to exclude Bruce Jenner from the family Christmas card. The whole thing is probably scripted, but if it really happened that way, I'd have to side with bruce jenner on this one, although lately he's been almost as big an idiot as the rest of them are.

I'm not genuinely sleepy yet, but I am going to turn everything off and give sleep one last try before i shower and get dressed in my court attire.

Bon soiree.

Guinness and the Essence of Stupidity

The writing assignment I tackled last night was a bit more of a challenge than I had anticipated.  I probably could not have completed it in one session were it not for the assistance and support of my good friend Mr. Guinness.  At about 2:15 a.m., I ventured downstairs, opened the bar  refrigerator, and helped myself to a bottle of the vile-tasting ale or beer or lager or whatever it technically is in the lexicon of libations.

Just as I was preparing to remove the cap from the bottle, my dad appeared.  "What in the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

I assumed the question was rhetorical. If I've learned anything the hard way in my first eighteen years of life, it is that rhetorical questions are best left unanswered.

The question was apparently not intended to be rhetorical. My dad pressed the issue further. "You were about to open a Guinness, Alexis. When I was in college, I at least did my drinking at college
-- not at home."  He  need not have added that the only way he could have consumed any alcohol at home was to bring it there himself, as his tee-totaler Mormon parents didn't even have cooking sherry on hand. For that matter, I wouldn't be surprised to find out my grandparents have non-alcoholic mouthwash and vanilla extract in their home.  Even their alcohol probably has no alcohol in it.

On rare occasions, sometimes even where parents are concerned, the truth is  much  more effective than the most carefully crafted lie could ever be.  "I have to write a paper, " I told him. "The assigned topic is 'Answer the following question:  "What is the essence of stupidity?" ' "

He whistled softly. "I'm impressed if you can write this one with just alcohol," he responded.  "I'd probably need magic mushrooms to even come close." He took the bottle from me, removed the cap, and took a glass from the cabinet above the mini-fridge. "Half a bottle," he said to me as he opened the Guinness, pouring the remaining half into the glass, and handing the bottle to me. He took a drink from the glass. "Why don't you get your laptop and write it down here?  Maybe two heads are stupider than one."

I went upstairs, retrieved my laptop, and made myself comfortable on the sofa, my Guinness within reach on the end table.  He asked me what I had come up with so far. "Nothing," I answered. I had no serious intention of writing on the "university students are the essence of stupidity" angle.

"I may have underestimated this. You'll probably need a full Guinness." He downed the remainder of the contents of his glass in a single swallow, then waited while I plugged my nose and attempted to do the same with what was in my bottle. It took seven swallows for me. "You're not much of an alcoholic, are you?" he asked. I nodded between swallows. I couldn't tell  whether he was more relieved or  unimpressed.  He opened another Guinness and divided it, this time leaving slightly less than half in the bottle for me.

"Here's what I'm thinking," I told him. I briefly shared with him what I thought the professor might be interested in hearing, which is that stupidity in its purest form is a byproduct of societal expression, manifesting itself in the form of pop culture.

"Not bad, "  he mused, "but can you  come up with nine hundred words on that?"

I thought for a moment. "Yes, "I told him, and here's how. . ."   The key, I told him, would be bullshit in both literal and figurative senses. For two years our family lived on the property of a large dairy in the San Joaquin Valley; I've had greater than average exposure to bovine excrement.  i could kill almost half the paper in a discussion of animal feces:  its forms, its uses, its quality in the sense that what goes in most definitely affects what comes out.

Then, after my lengthy dissertation on the properties of cow dung, I would transition to the properties of societal expression, and how what comes out in the from of pop culture is essentially metaphorical excrement.

"Make sure to include some of those Kardashians in your characterization of the bullshit of society," my dad added.  I nodded as I typed. Fifty-seven minutes (and roughly ten sips of Guinness) later, the typing was complete.

I began to read the draft aloud to my dad, but he took the laptop from me, explaining,  "I'm visual."
I waited as he read, and I watched with curiosity as he hit the mouse pad.  "You use too many commas, " he said in response to my puzzled expression.

"Whatever," I mumbled.  I'll  re-insert the commas later if I decide I care. I quickly typed a title page, and added a post-script note about my agricultural expertise having come from years of living in close proximity to cows so I would not be penalized for not having cited any sources in my somewhat technical discourse on the technical aspects of bovine excrement.  I printed the document and breathed a rather large sigh of relief.

This is not one of the prouder moments of my academic career, but I'm incredibly happy that this #*$@(  assignment is finished.

Happy Martin Luther King Day, and enjoy the inauguration. I will.

Do they really think we're THAT stupid? "Keeping up with the Kardashians" Revisited

I shouldn't admit that I ever watch this show. others with whom I am in contact do not waste their time on such drivel.  I admit that it's less intellectually stimulating than watching my dog empty her bladder, but still, it's a train wreck from which I cannot turn away.

Right now I'm watching the Angie Everhart episode again. In terms of celebrities, I'm not the most devoted follower on the planet. I don't usually read tabloids and am not typically up on the latest news in terms of what celebrity is sleeping with whom. A celebrity has to be on CNN's web page for me to have an idea what's going on in his or her life. in the grand scheme of things, the Kardashians are tabloid fodder and little more.

I just wonder how much the Kardashians and their producers honestly expect us to believe. Are we expected to accept that both Mr. and Mrs. Jenner are embarking on relationships that are clearly headed in the direction of affairs? That they're doing this in full view of the ever-present cameras? Do they expect us to believe that Mrs. Jenner really treats Bruce Jenner the was she does when he's Bruce Jenner and she's nobody?   I especially like the episodes when the viewers are treated to a moral "Sunday School" type of lesson from Mrs. Jenner. What next, Charles Manson coming on the air to discuss the ramifications of the commandment, "Thou shalt not kill" ?

And according to her mother, Kim Kardashian could be an FBI agent in, like, two seconds. Is this the same Kim Kardashian who couldn't even manage to stay out of a nude videotape? Yep, she'd make a great FBI agent. Hell, just put her in the Secret Service. She'd fit right in with all the nonsense that went down in South America recently. And now we've been let in on the secret that Kim Kardashian has a sixth sense and can smell when someone has a cavity. Why don't dentists hire her, or people like her, because if such a sixth sense even exists, surely Kimmy isn't the only one with it? Dental patients everywhere could be spared unnecessary radiation exposure from xrays because Kim Kardashian or someone like her would use their sixth senses to determine the presence of cavities. The possibilities are endless. And stupid. She has a sixth sense to determine the presence of cavities just like I have the ability to walk through brick walls or my brother has the ability to wash dishes properly.The plot lines of the programs are not believable, nor is the dialogue. I shouldn't be watching this garbage because it is slowly but surely rotting my brain.

Trying Extra Hard NOT to Keep Up with the Kardashians

My friend Jared was channel surfing while i was working tonight. He settled on an episode of "Keeping up with the Kardashians." My dad is 100% correct that the commercials aired in the breaks are more compelling than is the program itself.

The Kardashians are pathetic actors. Their show seems incredibly scripted -- poorly scripted, but very much scripted. The characters are, for the most part, very unlikable and unrelatable. Khloe, her husband, and Rob are the only remotely tolerable characters on the program.  I force myself to like Scott Disick just because kris jenner pretends to hate him so much, but even that seems scripted. The plot lines are straight out of "Jumped the Shark."  Mr. and Mrs. Jenner are having supposed  affaires du couer with the cameras rolling. Who believes this nonsense? What possessed Bruce Jenner ever to agree to stoop to such levels?

Is Scott Disick even on the program anymore?

I'm convinced that I could get together with any one of my real-life friends or Internet friends and in less than an hour, we could come up with a script for a half-hour program on just about any given topic that would be both more realistic and more interesting that the garbage spewed forth by E! on this particular program.

Aunt is Still Tripping

I spoke with Auntie on the phone today. She was trying to make sense of the various "Keeping Up With the Kardashians" and related spin-off series. That's one way I know she's under the influence of some mind-altering substance. She would never leave a Kardashian show on for long enough to try to make sense of it, as though sense exists to be made of it in the first place. She kept calling me and asking who these different characters (I call them characters rather than people because, to me, it's all just bad acting) were. She wanted to know what happened to Reggie Bush. Then she was getting Scott Disick confused with Rob Kardashian and was wanting to know why even a network as low-brow as E! would show a brother and sister who had a kid together and were preparing to become intimate again. Her vision was blurred, too, and she thought Kris Jenner was the actress who once played Felicia (or however the character's name was spelled) on Another World. I'm sure the actress has been on another soap since Another World's demise, but I have so little exposure to soaps that it's a miracle I even knew about Felicia and Another World.My aunt was also confused in regard to why Bruce Jenner was spending so much time at the Kardashians' home. She couldn't get it through her Vicodin-addled brain that the late (may he rest in peace) Robert Kardashian's former wife is now married to Bruce Jenner. Either that, or she just didn't really care, but was so bored and stoned that she kept calling me anyway. She's also confused about how any of these people other than maybe Bruce Jenner have attained sufficient stature in life to be extended the honor (or dishonor) of a reality TV series. I told her it's a question for the ages, and pundits have been trying to solve the puzzle since the very first Kardashian-related series aired.

The verdict is not yet in on my prom date. Both the person and the situation are being investigated from numerous angles. If the invitation was or is sincere, I feel sorry for the guy. If it wasn't or isn't, he deserves any scrutiny or bad publicity that falls his way. I hope to have an answer soon. Either way, I know my life will continue on its same boring course.

Sayonara!

My Twitter Followee Khloe Kardashian

Through some mysterious process unbeknownst to me, I became a Twitter follower of Khloe Kardashian. I do not recall ever clicking on a
"Follow" icon anywhere near her name, but stranger things have happened. Perhaps I've become a somnitweeter, or whatever would be the correct term for someone who uses a Twitter account in a state of sleep. Maybe my computer is possessed, and Satan or one of his minions clicked on the Khloe Kardashian "Follow" icon for me. Perhaps I clicked the icon in a momentary lapse of judgement or awareness, or maybe I left my computer unattended and someone else clicked it for me. Perhaps I've developed a seizure disorder (I've notice from my viewing of the TV program "House" that seizures are far more common than one might think), and one of the things I do during my seizures is to randomly click Twitter "Follow" icons. Whatever. I'm now a Twitter follower of Khloe Kardashian.

The logical course of action would be to click on the "Unfollow"
icon next to her name. For some reason I can't explain, I haven't done so. I don't usually even read her Tweets, which are many. She's a prolific if semi-literate Tweeter. Many of her Tweets pertain to publicizing upcoming "reality" shows featuring her or other members of her family. At other times Khloe Tweets about Laker games, which is logical, as her husband plays for the Lakers. Khloe Tweets to and about members of her family in such ways that would be considered inappropriate by my own family or, for that matter, almost any family I know.

Khloe recently Tweeted a criticism or complaint about her brother Rob, if I recall correctly, and his use of wax for hair removal from various body parts. In a moment of stupidity eclipsing even my normal stupidity, I responded via Twitter, "Why do you even know? I haven't a clue what my brother does or doesn't put on his private parts." I know that response from me was both stupid and about as futile as attempting to convert a Jehovah's Witness who shows up on one's doorstep to Roman Catholicism, Armenian Orthodoxism, Presbyterianism, or just about any ism more conventional than that form of worship which takes place at the Kingdom Hall. (If you tried interesting any of them in Branch Davidianism, you might actually have a shot at success.)

Khloe gave no response directed specifically to me. I don't think she customarily responds to fans' Tweets except on very rare occasions to those Tweets of an extremely laudatory nature. Still, not long after my Tweet to her, the following Tweet was posted by her: "Fake people really put a damper on my whole mood."

It may be that her Tweet and mine were parallel and not in any way interactive. If, however, there was a cause/effect relationship between her Tweet and mine, I am loathe to report to my 8.5 readers that those of you who are unaware and/or do not discuss what, if any, forms of hair removal your siblings use on their private parts, are fake people and you put a damper on Khloe Kardashian's whole mood. You, as well as I, should be ashamed!