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Yesterday Haze
Feb. 26th, 2023 07:31 amI did finish the Remunerative Project, but in the process, grew very gloomy because, you know, somewhere the sun was shining, and the gardenia flowers were hula-ing in the breeze, but they did not shine or hula for me-e-e-eeeeee.
Also, Hideous White Stuff Fell From the Sky all day long, and I was fucked because, in my usual dilatory fashion, I have yet to take my broken-zippered snow boot to the cobbler for repairs and, thus, was essentially grounded.
Only about two inches of the Hideous White Stuff fell.
But it snowed all day long, and it was very dark.
In vain did I remonstrate with myself: Think of all those poor people in Ukraine!
All that made me do is wonder if the $25 billion the Biden administration has so far given to Ukraine might have been better put to better use constructing one of those science-fiction-y, PVC, weather-proof bubbles around Hyde Park, New York.
###
I did have a lovely conversation with Ichabod!
He had just gotten out of a week-long trial, and while (of course) he could not fill me on any of the trial particulars (like the crime itself), he could talk in generalities about the perils of jury selection and defendants who insist upon testifying in their own defense and then go off script—
“I mean, in some ways, it was a good thing because his testimony allowed us to introduce evidence we probably couldn’t have otherwise introduced,” Ichabod told me. “But honest to God! He was so pompous! Always answering in five paragraphs when one would suffice! I could see the jury’s eyes glazing over.”
“Well, you know what Ben Stone always tells the jury,” I said. “In the second-to-the-last scene of every episode of Law & Order: But you’re not here to pass judgment on whether or not the victim is pompous. You’re here to consider the facts of the case! And the facts of the case are obvious, so you must find the defendant Guilty!
“Only Ben Stone was a DA, so you kinda have to flip it,” I added helpfully.
###
Also, in the evening, I finally got around to opening a box that has been sitting in the Patrizia-torium for six months and contains perfume samples.
The packaging on the box is beyond divine—Imaginary Authors: Short Story Collection.
I liberally doused myself with Yesterday Haze.
I smelled fabulous!
I still smell fabulous!
Also, Hideous White Stuff Fell From the Sky all day long, and I was fucked because, in my usual dilatory fashion, I have yet to take my broken-zippered snow boot to the cobbler for repairs and, thus, was essentially grounded.
Only about two inches of the Hideous White Stuff fell.
But it snowed all day long, and it was very dark.
In vain did I remonstrate with myself: Think of all those poor people in Ukraine!
All that made me do is wonder if the $25 billion the Biden administration has so far given to Ukraine might have been better put to better use constructing one of those science-fiction-y, PVC, weather-proof bubbles around Hyde Park, New York.
###
I did have a lovely conversation with Ichabod!
He had just gotten out of a week-long trial, and while (of course) he could not fill me on any of the trial particulars (like the crime itself), he could talk in generalities about the perils of jury selection and defendants who insist upon testifying in their own defense and then go off script—
“I mean, in some ways, it was a good thing because his testimony allowed us to introduce evidence we probably couldn’t have otherwise introduced,” Ichabod told me. “But honest to God! He was so pompous! Always answering in five paragraphs when one would suffice! I could see the jury’s eyes glazing over.”
“Well, you know what Ben Stone always tells the jury,” I said. “In the second-to-the-last scene of every episode of Law & Order: But you’re not here to pass judgment on whether or not the victim is pompous. You’re here to consider the facts of the case! And the facts of the case are obvious, so you must find the defendant Guilty!
“Only Ben Stone was a DA, so you kinda have to flip it,” I added helpfully.
###
Also, in the evening, I finally got around to opening a box that has been sitting in the Patrizia-torium for six months and contains perfume samples.
The packaging on the box is beyond divine—Imaginary Authors: Short Story Collection.
I liberally doused myself with Yesterday Haze.
I smelled fabulous!
I still smell fabulous!
