I’d like to take this opportunity to thank my father and brother for giving me an iron-clad way to get out of jury duty.  And although I would never commit perjury, I only need to slightly exaggerate our family dynamics in order to make sure it works every single time.  When they’re selecting jurors and I’m called up to answer the judge’s questions in front of the prosecutor and the defense, I always find myself in a conversation very much like this one:

JUDGE: Now here’s a very important question, Mr. Howard. Do you have any lawyers in your immediate family?

ME: Why, yes. My brother is a partner at a firm in the city, and my father was a social security lawyer for many years.

JUDGE: I see. And do you talk about law with them?

ME: Oh yes, all the time.  We discuss all sorts of cases, such as Plessy v. Roe, which had an eerie similarity to the case that’s about to be tried in this very courtroom--if you ignore the fact that it wasn’t about a civil lawsuit but rather about illegal rutabagas being smuggled into Honduras.

JUDGE: Okay, and do you--

ME: And after we’re all done talking about famous legal cases over the dinner table, we discuss old Matlock episodes.  And if there’s any time after that, we talk about being on jury duty and how we wouldn’t be easily swayed be either the prosecutor or the defense because we could reason rings around both of them.

JUDGE: What I need to know is whether you can remain impartial even though you--

ME: Also, I page through LSAT study guides just for fun. And I’m friends with Antonin Scalia on MySpace.  I often ask him for special “pics” of himself.

PROSECUTOR: Your honor, could you please make him shut up?

ME: Objection!  The prosecutor is badgering me.

JUDGE: You’re not actually allowed to say that.

ME: Listen, I know my rights. I’ll writ your habeas corpus all over your ipso facto until you’re nothing but a deux ex machina.

JUDGE: Prosecution, do you want to keep this juror?

PROSECUTOR: God no.

JUDGE: Defense?

DEFENSE: I’ve only known him for a few minutes, but I’ve really grown to hate him.

JUDGE: Mr. Howard, you’re not only excused from the jury pool, but I order you to get the hell out of here.

ME: No, you’re out of order.  This whole court is out of--

JUDGE: Bailiff, feel free to use the mace.

On the way out of the courthouse, I text my co-workers back at the office: “they’re still picking jurors...won’t know until later this afternoon if i can get away.” And then I go home and watch Robot Chicken.

It’s not as though I’m unwilling to do my civic duty. It’s just that I was always picked last for dodgeball in elementary school, so I see this as the universe’s way of giving me karmic redress.