Archie Ramone, stared down the the judge, and said, “Y’know, I’ve been a wonderin. How exactly can a fella be for justice and work down in warshington if he ain’t got his shingles about’em? Ya know, that good covering from up yonder.”
Mike Watkins responded, “Well, you raise an intriguing challenge. How can a naturalist, agnostic, atheist, or whatever brand you wish to label him participate in democratic justice?”
“Yea, I’d like to hear.”
“So what was your question exactly? You’ll have to forgive my naivety to souther’n colloquialisms. I am a bit famished from the plane ride, jet lack and all.”
“Well, I ain’t too keen on all the Yankee speak myself. Momma always said to cut it straight. Big talk is for lawyers and fat cats on the Wall Street. But how’you hold no religion and still be a judge? I reckon that’s what I wanna know.”
“Understood. Well, my concept of justice stems from my philosophical understanding of the world. We are all, whether we are comfortable with confronting our history, children of the Enlightenment. Even on the heels of modernity in a post modernistic era, we can’t quite elude reasons pince, if I may fabricate a verb. Going beyond reason, I’d say the findings of science solidify my confidence in reason, intuition and the latest gleanings from science.”
“Cut is straight. I ain’t never been a man to mince words.”
“Ok, science and reasons (Philosophy) inform my judiciary decision making, of course within the realm of law and jurisprudence.”
“Odd changing of events. Back yonder a fella couldn’t even testify in court’les he claimed legiance to his Maker. Testimony was thrown square out. Can’t trust a’man who don’t believe in Providence or divine punishment. How do you figure thangs’changed to allow fur an infidel, well, polictically correctly speakin, a man who ain’t got faith to sentence a man?”
“Well, I’m confident in humanities maturation or at the saturation of western democracy with secular education. Truth be told, it’s about time. Unless the great US beckons for a monarchical rule with theocratic siphoned talking points.”
“No, no,” he waved his hand with impatience, as if he were dismissing a cab who thought he needed transport, never that. and continued, “We deft don’t want to be bowing to no puppet queen and wear no sissy boy uniform and buffalo hat.”
The judge, chuckled, “I suppose not. At least we have concession. Damn the Brits right?”
The local met his words with a hearty nod and humphed up he leg over his knee against the wishes of his protruding belly.
“Not to get all historical on ya, continue, sir.”
“Right, to be a true democratic society, we must have equal voices, among the religious and non religious, among worker and employer among black and white, and male and female. In that respect, all need to be represented. The non-religious also have stake in this country, and besides that, I believe good law is sourced from many pools—religion included. As a movie once said, he scratched is head with complacence, I don’t recall exactly, but, even though I am I’m not religious I do go to church. My church is the democratic society we brought forth…something to that extent.”
Archie cast him a look like he had lost his way in the conversation long ago, back at, non religious probably
“Do you get what I am saying?”
“Naw, it sound’s like ya wouldn’t lose sleep over nobody serving in this great pure country, not the the unbelievers, what ya say about the A-rabs? They need’n representation too?”
“Yes, of course. We are a free country after all.”
“Well, that’s where we’a differ. The good Lord brought down great big fireballs on the Baalites. How’ya expect this county ta last if we open the door to people who wanna kill us…well?” (He looked like he made a stern point that couldn’t be answered)
“I think we may be getting far afield from our original talking points. Let’s suffice to say that all Arabs or Muslims, are not out to see the destruction of all Americans or of democracy, which is what your insinuation seemed to imply.”
“The interview well be continued on wolf news, stay tuned for Michael Cranberry’s “Why the President is an Islamic Marxist” guest starting Ronald Strubel, airing 8 PM EST.” The news hummed in the background:
At 8:30, tune in for self taught ecologist, conservative publisher Alberto Ramirez, expound the hoax of global warming!
The onlooker quieted the tube and plopped the remote on a stack of unrelated papers—recipts, pdf files, and gaming magazines, staggered on top of each other. He’d had his take of quibblers and would watch OZ if he wanted to see strawmen. His dog, dusty, was a famished German shepherd, a terrible watch dog but an excellent golden retriever (he fetched the remote). He sanded his hands through Buzz’s short furry brown and black head, running his hand to his underside and back up to his head. Brown and black like the honey badger, he smirked as he remember the effeminate commentary of the famous Youtube video. Man’s best friend readjusted himself plopping his snout on Joe’s lap. Buzz looked up and screeched out two small wimpers. “You too bud?” Joe said, looking down, with a torn smile, trying to save face when his heart was buckling under strain. He’d been sipping on fireball whiskey. The inevitable interrogation began. Would dismay ever end? Is there light at the end? Is this even a goddamn tunnel? Maybe all along he’d been trudging through innards of a leviathan and if he ever got out, he’d be in deep shit. His heart, black with nicotine tar, and sullied with festering disease. One man’s rotting flesh is another man’s marinated meat, and the negative thoughts aflame the other man’s brew. Throwing his head back and yawning a sigh, he continued his spiral.
–but Alberto. Alberto! This has been confimed by 90% of the scientific community!
Lame facts for lame liberals and their yahoo, sissy boy, nickle and dimeing Negro president.
“What have I to show for myself? I’m divorced. Shacked up in a crabby studio apartment. No Kids. No legacy. I still barely make more than minimum wage. Still hee hawing between new ventures.” He heaved up a gutturaled cough into his fist. First, his ego fell, then his head fell, then tears. “I just can’t…” He shook his head in disbelieve, “…just can’t get my life together. I’m a fuck up…a perpetual train wreck in constant motion!” he exclaimed, throwing up his hands, shaking his head and then chuckling with helpless resolve. He ran his knuckles against his forehead was anyone home and pressed his palms firmly against his streaking eyes.
At that moment there was a rap at the door. “Yo, you there?”
He removed his fists, leaving prints where blood bandied together under the pressure. “Who is it?” he tried to recompose himself, similar to how you would answer a phone call that woke you up from a warm dream, disgruntled and unbelievable. It’s always met with the same response were you sleep? “Naw, I’ve been up for a bit”
“Are you in there sulling?
“Naw, just tired”
“Gonna open the door?”
“Only if it’s my homeowner’s million dollar check”
“Dude, you live in a studio apartment. I’m sure they only—“
The door flew open. “What’s going on, Mike” he said, hypocritically, still in that slumber. Mike sported a red polo, buttoned to his throat, with tan khaki pants and bronze colored Mocassins. Wet dog smell and cigarette ash trailed behind the opened door. Joe looked shambled….
Antecdotal evidence refutes all the scientists. Today it’s cold outside.
But it’s November.
why of course, but, my slippery heart bleeder, it was one degree higher on the same date last year. Coincidence?
Where did you acquire your credentials again?
“Bro, turn this junk off. Alfredo left New York and moved to Mississippi and raised both their IQs”