Rural Juror


Let’s bid adieu to 2020 with a heartwarming tale of sitting on a small-town jury. Did you know adieu means “to God”? So when we bid adieu to 2020, we’re really saying, “To God with 2020,” when maybe what we really mean to say is “To hell with 2020.” Which would be to bid “en enfer” to 2020. But if we said that no one would know what we were talking about except the French, and who really cares about them? I mean, I like their baguettes and some of their cheeses, but if I’m being honest, I can live without the rest of it. All that Frenchness over there. And if you think about it, the hard outer part of a baguette is pretty rough on the gums and hard palate, so that doesn’t leave much to recommend France or the French. Okay. Rural juror. Here it is. Oh, and near the end I say, “I had to try to laugh,” when what I meant to say was I had to try NOT to laugh. Selah.

THIS IS NOT A TEST podcast - Rural Juror

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Transcript

WRITTEN BY A HUMAN

2 comments

  1. One of the biggest shocks that Justine had about life in the US is that somehow “not letting cops beat the shit out of you, for no reason, with weapons that are banned in war under international treaties” is a crime. Also, the dystopian logic of how using your bare forearms to defend yourself against attacks with clubs and batons is called “interfering with a peace officer.”

    • Yes, you’re also apparently supposed to let cops drag someone – to who knows where, to do who knows what to them – for shouting into a bullhorn without asking any questions. And for sure without trying to pull the person with the bullhorn toward you, and away from the cops who are trying to drag them away. For yelling into a bullhorn. That is clearly obstruction of JUSTICE. :|

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