By Bobbie Glasheen
Today’s mail lies scattered on the table before me. No, I do not want to contribute to the Annual Fund to Save the Cockroach. The Kangaroo Rat, yes. Not the cockroach. What a pile of useless missives.
But wait. This envelope has a different look. And smell. The postcard from the Dachshund Club of San Diego smells decidedly of Braunschweiger. The Estée Lauder advertisement is out of this world.
This new envelope smells dignified, of wood floors and old oak furniture newly oiled. It has the odor of justice and retribution, which causes me to develop a tic in my right eye.
It comes from the Superior Court of California, County of Riverside. Actually, I nominated myself to the office of judge. There must have been a vacancy, wherein the governor appoints a sort of fill-in.
Only in the farthest reaches of my mind did I anticipate that it would be followed through by action from Governor Brown himself.
This was getting out of hand. I did not own the proper attire, for one thing. Nor did I have the bus fare to Riverside. It was all a joke.
But someone had taken me seriously. Very seriously.
It is an impossible situation. Nonetheless, I begin to make plans. First, I will not sit on a raised dais. I will be down on the floor schmoozing, mingling and reading over the attorneys’ shoulders. Hot dogs and cold Budweiser will be served from noon to 6 p.m. just outside the chamber, free to both prosecution and defense. My courtroom will adjourn every 20 minutes for a short break during which time Yo-Yo Ma will perform.
My courtroom will be famous because I, the judge, am a felon myself and very familiar with the whole process. I did my time, smiled a lot and was released. Prudently, I didn’t tell them this in my nomination of self.
I will be very busy from now on. No more bridge afternoons with the gang at Creekstone Inn. No noshing at the Town Baker. The business of my promotion to the United States Supreme Court will come next.
I think I can do it. The Supreme Court. It has a good ring to it. I like the supreme part.
It is possible that I may not have time to fritter away on my journal.You are lucky to have read this much.
