April 20, 2024
Another in a series of observations of life as I know it.
I was praying, not sleeping!
-Current NYC hush money defendant
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Fasten your seatbelts folks. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride. The trial in New York is careening toward Monday. History is on display as the first former president will face justice for criminal acts. Drama and shenanigans will ensue.
The Washington Post posed an interesting explanation of the courtroom antics of the aforementioned defendant. Caffeine withdrawal. Huh? According to his staff, the former guy sucks down a dozen Diet Cokes a day. Your average cola drink is equivalent to 4-5 coffees in terms of caffeine content. That enough to blow a normal person’s head off at the spinal column. I suppose over time, the body adjusts. But even so. My eyes are bloodshot just thinking about it. I have one caffeinated beverage a day, before 2pm. Otherwise, I am up all night. Anyway, no food or beverages are allowed in the courtroom during an 8 hour day. Zero. He must have a bad case of delirium tremens. Which may explain the tiny cat naps. The slack mouth and herky jerky movements when he comes to. Karma is a bitch, big buddy. Sleepy Joe’s got nothing on you.
Understandably, there aren’t a ton of New Yorkers clamoring to spend 6-8 weeks doing their civic jury duty. For one thing, there is a very real, heightened sense of danger inherent in taking the oath. Sorta like sitting in judgment on a member of the Mob. Most wonder if they might be fitted for cement shoes then dumped in the East River. The trial smacks of an evening at the Bada Bing Club during the Sopranos years. Lots of goombas and made men standing by to do the Don’s bidding. No one dares to mention sleeping with da fishes because for your average citizen, it’s just a little bit too close for comfort. Most can see Mob HQ in Queens from their apartments. I can imagine that the judge is not resting easily at night either. Let’s hope his family has been relocated to a safe location somewhere in the wilds of Alaska.
This is life imitating art. In a very uncomfortable way. Yesterday, Don Snoreleone walked out of court waving a sheaf of papers. This is an old schtick of his. With top sheets copied in lurid colored ink, stapled and sandwiched to blank pages ready for recycling. This is a tired old trope used by crazy old white guys who are on the cusp of dementia. You cannot teach an old dog new tricks apparently. His purpose in waving the aforementioned paper? Honestly, who knows. It’s performative and symbolic of his rage and impotence. But here’s the thing. As one potential juror put it, he radiates a kind of existential ire. The courtroom is awash in his unconcealed temper. It’s no wonder the 18 new jurors feel that they too will soon be facing his revenge. He’s promised it. Likewise, prosecutors may be looking at mob hits on back roads. And a judge whose life span may have just got exponentially shorter. Is this normal? Of course not! But we the people have accepted this rank abnormality, making it moderately acceptable. God help us.
And this is just criminal trial number one. Batten down the hatches. Get facial surgery, a decent dye job and a new identity. Maybe the jurors can be placed in the federal protection program and relocated to Sheboygan. Da Family of Da Don is heading for the mattresses. And there will be blood.
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I hadn't considered caffeine withdrawal as a factor in Don Snoreleone's nodding off, but it's plausible. Others have suggested it as a denial mechanism in situations you can't control -- one person mentioned a terrifying car ride where one passenger fell asleep.
They don't seem to have had a hard time seating a jury, but OMG does it piss me off that the NY Post and the NY Times pretty much outed members of the jury.