Tag Archives: straight and narrow

Arraign

 

dictionary with letter A

Arraign: (v) to call or bring someone before a court to answer a criminal charge.

I’ve never been arrested, although I have been accused of having an arresting personality. (Pardon me, that was pathetic.)

I have thought about what it would be like to have my rights read to me by some austere cop, hand-cuffed and taken away in the squad car. Strange notions come to my mind during these reflections.

First of all, I wonder if they would be upset when their normal handcuffs wouldn’t work on my fat wrists.

Also, since I’ve tried during exercise to get my arms to reach behind my back, I wonder if they would be equally as aggravated as I am by the process.

Then there would be the procedure of getting into the back of the squad car handcuffed, which, with my girth, could require several attempts and some very painful head-hitting.

This has made me believe that there is a necessity for me to maintain the straight and narrow, to avoid the calamaties which might occur during my arrest.

I’ve also thought about what I would do when I appeared before the judge and charges were read, and it came my time to speak concerning my guilt or innocence. You know what I mean.

“And what do you plead?”

I’ve even rehearsed.

“Not guilty, Your Honor.”

How about this?

“What, bro? Yous gotta be kiddin’.”

“Absolutely not guilty!”

“Double dutch not guilty!”

Or should I add some comedy to the event?

“Guilty of overeating, but not guilty on these charges!”

What kind of attorney would they give me? Since I’m not very wealthy, he or she would be court appointed–a nervous novice who would be unable to pronounce my name. So in the midst of the reading of the indictment and my lawyer trying to explain the situation, I would find myself interrupting to correct the mispronunciations.

Would that anal-attentive attitude be a positive in front of the judge?

All in all, I think it’s just best to watch arraignments on television, and to personally avoid them–because I’m just afraid the handcuffs would chafe my wrists.

I have very sensitive skin.

 

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Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix

Acquit

Words from Dic(tionary)

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Acquit: (v.) 1. to free someone from a criminal charge by a verdict of not guilty 2. to conduct oneself or perform in a specified way: e.g. he needs to acquit himself well.

The word “acquit” makes me flash back to the O. J. Simpson trial in the 1990’s. Of course, if I was much younger, that might not be the case. But the memory of Johnnie Cochran saying, “If it don’t fit, you must acquit” immediately popped into my mind with the revelation of this day’s word.

To freshen your memory, the statement was made in relationship to a bloody glove discovered at the crime scene, which was placed on Mr. Simpson’s hand during the trial and seemingly was ill-fitted.

I guess that’s why the word “acquit” is an uneasy concept for me. I have to admit when I occasionally think about the idea of life after death, I don’t envision myself to be gloriously saved so much as I think of being “acquitted” by a really slick lawyer.

So after the experience with what they referred to as “the trial of the century” with O. J. Simpson, the word “acquit” leaves me a bit cold. What it connotes to me is that somehow or another, someone escaped responsibility due to a lack of evidence.

What I would hope for myself is that I would bring the evidence of my strengths AND weaknesses to the forefront BEFORE others prosecute me, making it clear that I am a mysterious balance between bungle and blessing.

Is that so hard to do? I guess it is. I would assume that our “jungle instinct” keeps us from admitting our faults, and instead, praying for an acquittal.

But of course, the danger of being acquitted is that unless you start walking the straight and narrow, you’re liable to slide off the path AGAIN–to get caught and this time, not have your fancy lawyer around anymore.

Thus the story of “The Juice.”

I think I’m going to work on being candid instead of counting on twelve people in a box deciding I’m not guilty.

Yes, that seems wiser.