The plan is a simple one: To get out of Jury Duty, you’d just need to pay a fee of say . . . $200. Not too much, but not inconsequential. You would then be free to go back to your regular life, trying to run over squirrels with a monster truck.
“But wait!” some of you are shouting, scaring the people next to you. “Though I love your blog and am secretly stalking you, hoping to bear your children, what about the poor people? They can’t afford to pay $200 to get out of Jury Duty! Your plan is discriminatory! And please shift the copy of the ‘Making Money’ by Terry Pratchett on the third shelf of the bookshelf in your bedroom. It’s blocking my video feed.”
Good point, but I thought of that. Use the $200 fee to pay the jurors who DO show up! Look at it this way. Most people will pay the fee. Let’s say that 1000 people are called and 900 decide to pay the fee instead. That’s . . . crap, math . . . ummmm . . . carry the two . . . divide by pie . . . lemur something . . . about 50 bucks.
Wait, let me get a calculator. That’s actually $180,000 dollars. You could easily pay $200 bucks a day to the jurors that showed up and still have money left over. And considering you need jurors every month that would be $180,000 per month for $2,160,000 bucks a year. Bigger cities would probably make even more.
Frankly, poor people would WANT to get jury duty. People would volunteer for long cases, simply because they’d make 2k a month while doing it.
Of all the phenomenal ideas I’ve ever had, this is easily the best one. Even better than the ‘Trout Gun.’
Anyone know how to get a bill into the State Legislator?
Cheers,
-Jason
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Do Your Duty: Part 1
I got my mail the other day. I try not to do that too often, as there’s a high percentage chance that there will be something unpleasant there, like a bill or a really upset King Cobra. Quick word of advice: if your mailbox is actively hissing, open it away from your body.
Well, I received neither a bill nor a snake, but something arguably more dire: a summons to Jury Duty.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against doing Jury Duty. I’ve done it before and it’s an important part of our judiciary system. It’s just that its, well, getting there is a pain in the butt. The court is in Seattle, so I have to get up early and drive across the bridge, find parking, avoid the urban gorillas (Seattle’s rife with ‘em), and make it to the courthouse on time. And then, do all that backwards to get home at the end of the day.
NOTE: Seattle traffic sucks. I mean ‘commit murder’ sucks.
Now, like I said, I don’t mind the actual ‘jury’ part of jury duty. It’s actually kind of interesting. I don’t even mind waiting around to get called. I get to read and practice talking to myself (‘No! I said no muffin! Don’t you-! Get away from there! I said no muffin! And put down the ostrich!’). I’m just really dreading the drive over.
So, whilst contemplating this, I said to myself “Rutherford (which is how I address myself), there really ought to be a legally acceptable way to get out of jury duty.”
And then it hit me: what if you could pay to get out of jury duty?
Tomorrow: Part 2
Well, I received neither a bill nor a snake, but something arguably more dire: a summons to Jury Duty.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against doing Jury Duty. I’ve done it before and it’s an important part of our judiciary system. It’s just that its, well, getting there is a pain in the butt. The court is in Seattle, so I have to get up early and drive across the bridge, find parking, avoid the urban gorillas (Seattle’s rife with ‘em), and make it to the courthouse on time. And then, do all that backwards to get home at the end of the day.
NOTE: Seattle traffic sucks. I mean ‘commit murder’ sucks.
Now, like I said, I don’t mind the actual ‘jury’ part of jury duty. It’s actually kind of interesting. I don’t even mind waiting around to get called. I get to read and practice talking to myself (‘No! I said no muffin! Don’t you-! Get away from there! I said no muffin! And put down the ostrich!’). I’m just really dreading the drive over.
So, whilst contemplating this, I said to myself “Rutherford (which is how I address myself), there really ought to be a legally acceptable way to get out of jury duty.”
And then it hit me: what if you could pay to get out of jury duty?
Tomorrow: Part 2
Thursday, September 24, 2009
My Body Hates Me
Last night, I didn't have insomnia.
Seriously.
I was out like a light. I was makin’ ‘Zs.’ I was (probably) snoring like a lactose intolerant were-boar who’d just eaten an entire pizza.
I would like to say it was marvelous, but I don’t recall any of it.
So, of course, my body decided that just wouldn’t do, so I awoke at 5:17 am with a full body cramp.
Literally, my entire body went ‘crap!’ and just knotted it up. Needless to say, I woke up. I actually had to get up and walk around for a bit until things loosened up. This, of course, woke me up even more, so I didn’t really fall back asleep before getting up at 7:15 to work out.
This has led me to one conclusion: my body hates me.
I don’t know why or how, but there you go. Maybe I mistreated it in the past. Maybe I forgot to buy it flowers on our anniversary. I dunno. All I do know is that it’s bound and determined to never let me actually get a full night’s sleep.
I guess I shouldn’t complain too much. Most of the blogs come from me staring at the ceiling at 3 am thinking about things like 'Mordor’s Idol,' which would be a talent show where orcs sang. Other orcs would vote by throwing things at them, like axes and severed heads.
Needless to say, I’m going to be early tonight.
Anyway, look for a new chunk of Art the Wanderer next Sunday and the usual silliness the rest of the week. And please vote! Often! With extreme prejudice!
Cheers,
-Jason
Seriously.
I was out like a light. I was makin’ ‘Zs.’ I was (probably) snoring like a lactose intolerant were-boar who’d just eaten an entire pizza.
I would like to say it was marvelous, but I don’t recall any of it.
So, of course, my body decided that just wouldn’t do, so I awoke at 5:17 am with a full body cramp.
Literally, my entire body went ‘crap!’ and just knotted it up. Needless to say, I woke up. I actually had to get up and walk around for a bit until things loosened up. This, of course, woke me up even more, so I didn’t really fall back asleep before getting up at 7:15 to work out.
This has led me to one conclusion: my body hates me.
I don’t know why or how, but there you go. Maybe I mistreated it in the past. Maybe I forgot to buy it flowers on our anniversary. I dunno. All I do know is that it’s bound and determined to never let me actually get a full night’s sleep.
I guess I shouldn’t complain too much. Most of the blogs come from me staring at the ceiling at 3 am thinking about things like 'Mordor’s Idol,' which would be a talent show where orcs sang. Other orcs would vote by throwing things at them, like axes and severed heads.
Needless to say, I’m going to be early tonight.
Anyway, look for a new chunk of Art the Wanderer next Sunday and the usual silliness the rest of the week. And please vote! Often! With extreme prejudice!
Cheers,
-Jason
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Yoga!
I tried yoga the other day. It was difficult in a way that was completely foreign to me. I mean, I didn’t really feel like I was doing anything, but I was still sweating like a pig staring at a ham.
B y-the-by, this was not live yoga with other people. It was a DVD yoga lesson, so I got to pause and rewind as needed. I did this liberally, mainly because the two girls in the video had magnificent butts.
Anyway, I spent a good portion of the time watching other people pull themselves into weird postures and then trying it myself. I managed to do several that I was pretty sure I couldn’t. There were a handful that I completely couldn’t do and one that I just looked at and went ‘nah.’
Now, I didn’t say ‘nah’ just because the position looked humanly impossible, but because I was alone and if I seriously hurt myself, I’d end up starving to death on my living room floor with my spine jutting out at weird angles. Granted, it wouldn’t be all bad, as I would be able to watch the girl’s bums a lot, but there’s that whole ‘death’ thing.
So, the guy on the video spent a lot of time explaining the different postures and basically doing them effortlessly and I did my best to watch as I slowly twisted my body into a variety of anatomically incorrect positions. It occurred to me though, as I watched the TV through my legs while trying to touch my left hand to my right big toe and simultaneously put my right hand on blue (a little Twister joke there), that if they wanted to market yoga to nerds, they would need a totally different approach.
And I had yet another staggeringly good idea. Yoda Yoga. This would be a series of Yoga videos where you’re being taught by Yoda while a bevy of hot Twi-lek girls (the blue or green ones with the head tendrils) do the moves.
“Assume Downward Dog you must,” Yoda would say, as the Twi-lek’s stretched on screen. “Think not on the girls. On yourself you must concentrate.”
Other characters could make cameos. Luke could demonstrate Jedi Pose. Han could do the Smuggler Stretch. Chewbacca could . . . bellow, I guess.
Anyway, now all I need to do is get George Lucas’ phone number. This could spawn a whole new world of Star Wars Workouts, like Padme's Pilates or Leia's Legs and Butt or Ewok Bashing or something.
Cheers,
-Jason
B y-the-by, this was not live yoga with other people. It was a DVD yoga lesson, so I got to pause and rewind as needed. I did this liberally, mainly because the two girls in the video had magnificent butts.
Anyway, I spent a good portion of the time watching other people pull themselves into weird postures and then trying it myself. I managed to do several that I was pretty sure I couldn’t. There were a handful that I completely couldn’t do and one that I just looked at and went ‘nah.’
Now, I didn’t say ‘nah’ just because the position looked humanly impossible, but because I was alone and if I seriously hurt myself, I’d end up starving to death on my living room floor with my spine jutting out at weird angles. Granted, it wouldn’t be all bad, as I would be able to watch the girl’s bums a lot, but there’s that whole ‘death’ thing.
So, the guy on the video spent a lot of time explaining the different postures and basically doing them effortlessly and I did my best to watch as I slowly twisted my body into a variety of anatomically incorrect positions. It occurred to me though, as I watched the TV through my legs while trying to touch my left hand to my right big toe and simultaneously put my right hand on blue (a little Twister joke there), that if they wanted to market yoga to nerds, they would need a totally different approach.
And I had yet another staggeringly good idea. Yoda Yoga. This would be a series of Yoga videos where you’re being taught by Yoda while a bevy of hot Twi-lek girls (the blue or green ones with the head tendrils) do the moves.
“Assume Downward Dog you must,” Yoda would say, as the Twi-lek’s stretched on screen. “Think not on the girls. On yourself you must concentrate.”
Other characters could make cameos. Luke could demonstrate Jedi Pose. Han could do the Smuggler Stretch. Chewbacca could . . . bellow, I guess.
Anyway, now all I need to do is get George Lucas’ phone number. This could spawn a whole new world of Star Wars Workouts, like Padme's Pilates or Leia's Legs and Butt or Ewok Bashing or something.
Cheers,
-Jason
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Rock-Jackhammer-Scissors
I’m assuming you’re familiar with Rock-Paper-Scissors (aka Jan-Ken-Pon or Rochambeau). If you’re not, it’s a simple game where you acquire two of each object (a rock, a piece of paper, and a scissors), give one set to each person, and then when the whistle blows, you attempt to kill your opponent with one of the objects. Scissors scores one point, as it’s the easiest to kill with. Rock scores two points, and Paper scores ten points, as it’s really hard to kill someone with a single sheet of paper. No one really knows why they bother keeping score, I suppose it’s because very few people would otherwise pick Paper.
Note: Obviously, the preceding paragraph is completely false. Strangely enough, most of what I write is completely false. This paragraph itself is also likely false. It’s like a Zen koan of stupidity.
However, why Rock, Paper, and Scissors? Why those three objects? Rock and Scissors are kinda dangerous, so okay. Why Paper though? Obviously, it’s because Scissors can cut Paper, but Scissors can cut lots of thing. It could have been Rock, String, Scissors’ or ‘Rock, Pants, Scissors’ or ‘Rock, Hairball, Scissors.’
And yes, I’ve cut a hairball with scissors.
I’m just curious as to why those three things were picked. They just seem so random.
It was like some guy thought ‘Hey, I need three things that are diametrically opposed’ and glancing around his room, picked out three things completely at random. It could have been ‘Spitoon, Blunderbuss, Panties.’
Personally, I would have gone for ‘Nose, Finger, Booger.’ Obviously, Finger picks Nose, Nose blows out Booger, and Booger sticks to Finger.
It has a certain symmetry.
Cheers,
-Jason
Note: Obviously, the preceding paragraph is completely false. Strangely enough, most of what I write is completely false. This paragraph itself is also likely false. It’s like a Zen koan of stupidity.
However, why Rock, Paper, and Scissors? Why those three objects? Rock and Scissors are kinda dangerous, so okay. Why Paper though? Obviously, it’s because Scissors can cut Paper, but Scissors can cut lots of thing. It could have been Rock, String, Scissors’ or ‘Rock, Pants, Scissors’ or ‘Rock, Hairball, Scissors.’
And yes, I’ve cut a hairball with scissors.
I’m just curious as to why those three things were picked. They just seem so random.
It was like some guy thought ‘Hey, I need three things that are diametrically opposed’ and glancing around his room, picked out three things completely at random. It could have been ‘Spitoon, Blunderbuss, Panties.’
Personally, I would have gone for ‘Nose, Finger, Booger.’ Obviously, Finger picks Nose, Nose blows out Booger, and Booger sticks to Finger.
It has a certain symmetry.
Cheers,
-Jason
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Another One Bites the Dust
Well, it's Friday, meaning yet one more week has slipped into oblivion. It managed to be both a fast week and a long one, as the hours went quickly, but the days felt long.
I realize that doesn't make any sense.
We're staying busy over here at Wayfarer's Moon, working tirelessly to bring you the quality comic you've come to love or at least, adore. Like, maybe?
Anyhow, please remember to vote and be sure to tune in next Monday for the latest installment of Art the Wanderer!
Cheers,
-Jason
I realize that doesn't make any sense.
We're staying busy over here at Wayfarer's Moon, working tirelessly to bring you the quality comic you've come to love or at least, adore. Like, maybe?
Anyhow, please remember to vote and be sure to tune in next Monday for the latest installment of Art the Wanderer!
Cheers,
-Jason
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Cthulhu Brie Fhtagn!
Okay, this one is going to take a bit of explanation.
This morning at about 5:30 am, I was lying awake in bed, an unfortunate, but common occurrence. I’d been drifting in and out of sleep for a while, my brain bumping against a variety of subjects, many of which were stupid. Okay, most of which were stupid. I have no idea why celery man and a carrot man would need to fight.
I also recall thinking about whether Batman ever goes through a drive through in the Batmobile. I mean, it’s late, he’s been fighting crime all night and he’s probably hungry. He could call Alfred and have him prepare a snack, but Alfred’s roughly 700-years old and probably needs his sleep. Batman could just whip through Taco Bell and grab a burrito or something. I dunno, I would certainly do it.
Anyway, back to the stupidity at hand.
I was then struck by a thought. Not literally, of course, as that would be weird. The thought was, and I kid you not: The Cheese of Cthulhu.
Seriously. The Cheese of Cthulhu. Does Cthulhu even eat? Does he like cheese? Is great Cthulhu lactose intolerant? Does dairy give him gas (which would explain a few eruptions throughout history – I’m looking at you, Vesuvius)?
These thoughts were enough to more or less wake me up and I lay there, watching the sunlight slowly grow on the wall, thinking about them. The great question, of course, was what kind of cheese would Cthulhu eat? I knew immediately: brie.
I just don’t like brie. I prefer a nice cheddar or jack. Boring, I know, but that what we ate when I was a kid, so there you go. The first time I saw brie, I thought there was something wrong with it. Cheese, as far as I knew, should not ooze.
But enough about me, Cthulhu (and probably many of you) likes brie.
Wow, that was probably the most random blog I’ve ever written.
Cheers,
-Jason
This morning at about 5:30 am, I was lying awake in bed, an unfortunate, but common occurrence. I’d been drifting in and out of sleep for a while, my brain bumping against a variety of subjects, many of which were stupid. Okay, most of which were stupid. I have no idea why celery man and a carrot man would need to fight.
I also recall thinking about whether Batman ever goes through a drive through in the Batmobile. I mean, it’s late, he’s been fighting crime all night and he’s probably hungry. He could call Alfred and have him prepare a snack, but Alfred’s roughly 700-years old and probably needs his sleep. Batman could just whip through Taco Bell and grab a burrito or something. I dunno, I would certainly do it.
Anyway, back to the stupidity at hand.
I was then struck by a thought. Not literally, of course, as that would be weird. The thought was, and I kid you not: The Cheese of Cthulhu.
Seriously. The Cheese of Cthulhu. Does Cthulhu even eat? Does he like cheese? Is great Cthulhu lactose intolerant? Does dairy give him gas (which would explain a few eruptions throughout history – I’m looking at you, Vesuvius)?
These thoughts were enough to more or less wake me up and I lay there, watching the sunlight slowly grow on the wall, thinking about them. The great question, of course, was what kind of cheese would Cthulhu eat? I knew immediately: brie.
I just don’t like brie. I prefer a nice cheddar or jack. Boring, I know, but that what we ate when I was a kid, so there you go. The first time I saw brie, I thought there was something wrong with it. Cheese, as far as I knew, should not ooze.
But enough about me, Cthulhu (and probably many of you) likes brie.
Wow, that was probably the most random blog I’ve ever written.
Cheers,
-Jason
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