Once a year, I get called up for jury duty, and I always get tossed because the defense and state agree I’m a whack-job who thinks for himself.
The judge calls it “Talk And Walk.”
And, boy, can I talk.
I used to celebrate my freedom by heading to Cabo’s bar and grill for a margarita and a fish taco, but Cabo’s closed down last year.
And sitting six hours on a hard bench really hurt my back.
I limp to the park, put down a pile of treats, and watch the feral cats eat.
The only truly innocent Downtown.