Judgement day

This is going to suck.

I walk into the Dakota County building at 8:30 a.m. About 50 others are already waiting. Some have tatoos, some wear suits, some have ripped jeans. Some are high school students wearing A&F. I put on a tie today. That's after waking up late, skipping breakfast, and taking a wrong turn. But now we're all waiting.

Oh, this is going to suck.

The courtroom starts out empty--then a bailiff opens the doors and belts out the rules. We file through the doors, fill the court room, and we wait. First we're in the line to sign in at the front of the room, then for our names to be called one by one. There's wood paneling everywhere. What's with court rooms and wood paneling? Eventually a suited prosecutor enters and sits on a wood chair at a wood table. She calls up one of us disputing a speeding ticket. They discuss. Then she calls another who was driving without a liscense or insurance. They discuss. Paperwork is everywhere.

It's already been 45 minutes. Wow this sucks.

Finally a judge appears. "All Rise," the bailiff bellows. The judge sits down. As the bailiff says "you can have a seat," the judge tosses his hand at his audience without concern, motioning us to sit down, already. His robe is not closed.

With a smirk, he says "You can see I wore my nice flannel shirt today," he says. The courtroom tension lifts. He begins buttoning the black robe. With exagerated facial expressions, he says "See I'm what they call a senior judge, which means I'm retired--good for nothing. They just ran out of judges today."

This will be good.

"If everyone had a theme song, you know what mine would be?" He pauses and smiles at us. "The McDonalds one. 'You deserve a break today.'"

Oh, this will be good.

"I think it's kind of stupid that you have to come in here and spend your whole morning waiting. If I had my way, you'd do this all by mail. But they don't listen to me. Maybe that's why I stayed here instead of going over to St. Paul."

This is better than a movie.

While the prosecutor continues to call up people to sit and discuss at the table, the Judge starts calling people up. But in front of the judge, we have to stand, with the judge up high staring down. Just like the movies.

The Judge calls up a high school student. It sounds like he was involved in stealing a candy bar and a can of pop at a convenience store.

"Now I don't have time to give long lectures this morning, but why would you go and do something stupid like that?" He says, continuing the exaggerated facial expressions. He turns to the court stenographer. "Why would he do something dumb like that, Jeff?" Back to the kid. "You'll be running for President of the United States, and then this will come up. And then, nope, you're out. You're really messing up your life!" He pauses. "Can you pay $100 in court fees today?"

The kid hesitates, like he doesn't want to pay fees. "Ah, yes."

The judge dumbs it down and leans toward him. "See, you're paying $100 to keep it off your record."

I don't think too many of us understand how this process works. Do we get off the hook just for showing up? What's going on here?

The judge continues calling us up, as does the prosecutor. The judge's stack of cases runs out.

"Well it looks like I don't have any more cases! If no one else wants to talk to me, I'm going to take a break."

Um, I've got a question: What the hell is the difference between talking to you and talking to the prosecutor? I don't actually speak up. But to a rookie, the courtroom experience can be a daunting one. As entertaining as the substitute judge was, we were all lost. Except for the tattooed lady who was caught violating her parole rules.

That was good.

Keeping tabs

I wish I came up with this business model.

I know it's my fault. I didn't order tabs in time, so I got a ticket. This woke me up, and I ordered tabs. But then then I got another ticket, and another, and another. A cop even turned left on a red light, followed me through several twists and turns, and pulled me over across the street from my office's parking lot. I told the cop I had the tabs in the mail and asked him a question about the ticket, he didn't know, didn't care, and told me to call the number on the ticket. His job is to protect and serve, but all I got served was a dish of brash attitude.

I know, I was at fault. But I can't put tabs on my plates when they're in the mail.

So I had some tickets. Too many tickets, many that came after ordering my tabs. So how do I explain that these tickets were written for me while I owned tabs that were in the mail? I had to drive out to court. Well, two courts in two different counties. When is court open? When I'm at work. When else can I go? Never. My only option is to take off work, which isn't always a viable option.

Today, I was pulled over with an expired license, and was told I cannot drive. My car would either be towed, or I could park it somewhere and walk to work. I parked. And now I'm stranded. I've called the courts several times to try to talk to someone, but the phone system disconnects me every time. I have nowhere to turn, other than pay all the fines. It's a fine business model they've cooked up.

Drinking the unknown

The main thing that's wrong with this country is that our flag is made with the colors red, white, and blue. This is an attack on our children's education, as the three primary colors are red, yellow, and blue. Our children are growing up thinking white is one of the most important colors, when really, white is just the absence of color. Of course if they have a really, really old flag, they might be on the right track. So I guess I can let that one slide.

But the next-worst thing that's wrong with this country is the blatant disregard for health--human, and otherwise--in lawmaking. Now I'd never run for any type of office (but if enough of you start calling for it, we'll talk. I've got a campaign manager and a spokesperson lined up), but I'd like to think that I, or any other kid with an over-sized ego would get into politics to make things better for people. Part of this would be protecting the public.

Why am I blasting the man like this? See, I just drank a Rockstar sugar free energy drink, and I want to know what I'm drinking.

Since I didn't spend much time in the laboratories (say it like the Brits do, it's more fun), I can't really build one, so I'd appreciate it if the government started a program to test drugs, food, and other consumables. I'd love to trust those companies, but I don't even know who they are, so it's kinda hard to trust them. If I can suggest a name for this government group, I'd call it the Food and Drug Administration.

I just googled that name to see if it was already taken and it turns out The FDA was established in 1906 with the passage of the Food and Drug Act after previously being called the Buerau of Chemistry. I'll bet they have some pretty good labs. Thanks Teddy Roosevelt. You're def in the top 10 presidents--chemistry wise. Bottom 10? Bill Clinton. I know it's a suprise, but remember, this is on the scale of "how healthy for the human body your laws were." On other scales, he's way up there. Saxophone ability: top 3, Hair style impressiveness with age: top 10 (hello Taft!), and Legendary Partiers: #2 (second only to Bush-The Sequel. I'm afraid if we get a Clinton sequel, we won't get another legendary partier, though. She's gonna be #1 on the bitter triginometry teacher scale).

Ok, enough beating around the W. What did Slick Willie do that was so bad? How could any modern age president be bottom 10 at anything? (OK - bad question).

Clinton's administration was responsible signing into law the Dietary Supplement Health and Education Act of 1994. D'Shea for short (Pretend it's the name of a really bad early 90's R&B artist with a hit song titled "When Time Is Love." That will help establish negative connotations).

D'Shea states that instead of passing FDA tests, dietary supplements only needed safety approval from one entity--the company selling the "supplement." Teddy would roll in his grave!

I can only consider the serious tests the Austrian company that produces Red Bull runs on their drink, which originated in Thailand. The scene opens in one of those stale cop movie questioning rooms with one light hanging from the ceiling. There are two men in suits, on the other side of the thick, grey table, one cash strapped Austrian college student. He sips, they observe, he gags, bud doesn't throw up, they check the box next to "OK."

So after I finished my Rockstar Sugar Free drink, I checked to see what was in it. 10 calories per serving, check. 0 carbs, check. Protein? Fat? No mention. The 10 calories had to come from somewhere, but I can't find them. Not on the can, not on their website, and no other third party lists that information.

An e-mail to Rockstar, Inc. was not returned after five days.