Judge Not
(Published in the Inland Valley Daily Bulletin—January 28, 1996)
I was driving home from work, contemplating a career change, as I do every third day or so, when something I heard on the radio struck me.
“California has a shortage of judges,” droned the commentator, who was trying to explain why it takes about 50 years to bring a civil case to trial, and why less-important cases are apt to be tried in the men’s room for lack of courtroom space.
To some, it was just another vexing report from the frontiers of social chaos. To me, it was an opportunity.
I’ve always felt I would make a good judge. For instance, if Mr. A were accused of punching out his neighbor, Mr. B, because Mr. B’s dog bit him on the leg after he walked past the gate to discuss having an avocado tree limb sawed off because it was encroaching on Mr. A’s backyard, which he then sent him the bill for, I would have the perfect solution: Mr. A gets the avocados, each pays the other’s medical bills—and both have to sit through ten hours of “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood.”
And sing along with the theme song.
Wisdom is a gift from God, and no one was ever more gifted than King Solomon. It was he who presided over the case of two women, each of whom claimed a certain baby as her own. His decision was to “cut the living child in two,” and give half to each. The child’s real mother then emerged, begging Solomon to spare the baby and give it to the other woman.
Pretty smart, that Solomon.
Nowadays, of course, the solution would be to process the child through the foster care system, guaranteeing him a lifetime of pain and horror. The grieving “parents’ would then console themselves by suing each other for emotional distress and appearing on “Hard Copy.”
I feel I could handle the thornier issues judges have to deal with. Like whether or not to allow cameras in the courtroom. I would say no, except for one camera which the court itself would control. They would then make the videotape available for $29.95, using a toll-free 800 number. If it turned out to be a really popular tape, forget the 800 number. Why should the justice system be played for a schnook when there’s money to be made?
Turns out, it’s not that easy to become a judge. I looked over the application form for civil service positions, and I didn’t see the word “judge” anywhere. I could be a road maintenance worker or a receptionist. But it’s just not the same.
Someone told me that judges have to be appointed by the governor. So, I’m beginning my letter-writing campaign, which I ask all readers to join, urging him to consider me for the next available position.
Should the issue of my qualifications come up, I think I have that adequately covered: I am the parent of three teenagers. Need I say more.
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