The Rest Is Silence

U. S. Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas has been silent for nearly five years straight during oral arguments-- and a lot of people are talking about that.

(You like that?)

Whatever you may think about Clarence Thomas as an adjudicator supreme with pickles, special sauce, and a sesame seed bun-- whatever you may think about his alleged propensity for doing socially unacceptable things to other peoples' Coke cans, you've got to admire somebody who has the balls to be quiet for that long.

Well, at least... I admire him. For that.

Call me young, dumb, and full of pubes, but I like to think that, when people are quiet or, dare I say, silent: they're listening. Sure, sometimes people are daydreaming about boobies or their cats or their feet or scallops and scampi at Red Lobster-- I can appreciate that, but I would hope that a Supreme Court justice who has been quiet for that long is taking it all in, in an introspective way, surveying the scene, ticking away the points of attorneys and fellow justices in his head... taking it all in, the way one might at a museum.

Do you know what I think about people who talk too much at museums? I think they should be arrested on the spot and forced to wash dishes in the kitchen adjacent to the overpriced cafe that peddles cafe au lait and panini. And those charged with supervising their involunatry detention and servitude should say to them, "You want to run your mouth inside a museum? This is the place to do it. And I hope you know Spanish, because Paco over there's got a great story to tell you about his older sister, a pair of nylons, a roll of duct tape, a chinchilla, and a microwave."

You might be surprised that someone who blogs so, um, incessantly(?) is a proponent of silence in certain situations, but I definitely am. Oftentimes, it is most called-for. Believe it or not, but I am frequently silent. Either that, or I say far, far too much. There is no in-between with me. I'd say "I'm working on it," but I'm not.

I've been going to a series of trainings at work and, while others at the intimidating-looking ovoid table in the intimidatingly-named board room participate energetically, I am more often than not silent. Even though I started in early September, I still can't help sometimes feeling like the new guy. And what new guy wants to open up his trap and be judged? And who wants to hear the new guy make an ass out of himself?

I know, that's all coming from within. I get it. I do. Still, sometimes it's just so hard to speak. I'd rather listen, and judge everybody else.

After all: that's what I'm really good at-- isn't it?

As far as Clarence Thomas goes, I don't know especially what he's good at. Never met the guy, you know? I don't know. All I do know is he's not being paid that exorbitant sum of money and wasn't granted that forever-if-you-please title for talking. We're not paying him to talk. We paying him, really, to think. To pontificate. To evaluate. To adjudicate. To deliberate. To interpret. Yeah-- to think. And, the last time I checked, it's hard to do that while running your mouth like you've got something to prove to someone, or to yourself.

Maybe I just like the strong, silent type.

Shhhh....

What Would You Ask?

When I have writer's block, I often turn to www.nytimes.com for blogdeas.

I used to turn to www.cnn.com but I stopped viewing that particular "news and information website" because I couldn't stand the insipidity anymore. If I saw one more headline about Nadya Suleman, I was going to take an encyclopedia to my own genitals.

Anyway, today, a New York Times headline struck me. "What Would You Ask Judge Sotomayor?"

Apparently, "the Caucus is interested in what readers would like to know about Judge Sotomayor." Now, I don't actually believe that, but I'm prepared to go along with it, just for fun, really.

Here's a list of questions I'd like to ask Judge Sotomayor:

1.) What the fuck is wrong with you?

Seriously, honey: WTFIWWY? Do you have some kind of personality disorder or emotional defecit? I'm guessing you must, because, otherwise, why would you want to sit on the Supreme Court, and have your every word, movement, gesture and, especially, opinion questioned, second-guessed, analyzed, scrutinized, villified and objectified? Do you think that will be some kind of high ol' time? I mean, look at what's happened to you since Obama picked your name out of the sombrero-- are we having fun yet? Honestly, I have no doubt that breaking your ankle was the most enjoyable part of your last couple months.

2.) Boxers or briefs?

I mean, everyone wants to know, they're just too afraid to ask. Do you think that African American male firefighters should be required to wear boxers shorts or Y-fronts while on duty and, if it's boxers, do you think that they should be permitted to object to a racially-skewed promotion test that would enable them to become lieutenants and, therefore, go to work commando-style?

3.) Are you a racist?

Think carefully before you answer-- this is a big one.

4.) Who won the English football cup in 1949?

Come on, Judge-- if you've ever seen Monty Python's Flying Circus "Communist Quiz" sketch, you've at least got a fair chance.

5.) If the asbestos siding on my house is in relatively good condition, would you suggest removing it and replacing it with aluminum siding or shingles, or just leaving it be?

I realize you're probably not an expert on this particular topic, but the home inspector said to leave it and I'm just dying for a second opinion, you know?

6.) Do you believe in the Catholic doctrine that states that sexual congress should only be initiated for the purpose of procreation and, if so, do you believe that doctrine should apply across the board to heretics like the Jews?

I have kind of a personal reason for asking.

7.) If two gay men with mustaches kiss really hard, will their mustaches fall off?

This is a question I asked my mother at age 9 and never received a satisfactory answer, so I was wondering if you would field that one for me.

8.) If someone throws up into someone else's mouth, will the person with throw-up in their mouth have a heart attack?

Ditto.

9.) Why is it that picking your nose in public is disgusting and all kinds of taboo, but it's perfectly acceptable to dig into your occular region to clean out your eye boogers?

I realize we're getting kind of philosophical here, but I think you can handle it.

10.) Are any of my moles cancerous?

I'm really dying to know, being a hypochondriac and an alarmist. I'm also a pretty big coward with shitty health insurance, and I'd love to avoid an expensive visit to the dermatologist and a painful biopsy, so do you think we could arrange a time where I could stand before you, buck-ass nekkid and show you all of my skin anomalies and you could just kinda, you know, tell me what's what in the mole department? That'd be sweet. Thanks, doll.

Hey, thanks New York Times! That was fun. What would YOU ask Judge Sotomayor?

The High Court Has Spoken

Twenty-eight years ago, a young Philadelphia police officer out on patrol alone was murdered in the middle of a cold, December night. He was in the process of arresting a man who had just assaulted him, when another man walked up and shot him in the back. The police officer spun around and fired once at his attacker, hitting him in the chest. The officer then fell to the ground and stared, face-up as his assailant stood over him, put the muzzle of his revolver not inches away from the officer's face, and fired-- ending a new marriage, a budding police career, and a promising life.

Thanks, Mumia.

Twenty-eight years later, after a myriad of appeals, a dizzying array of conspiracy theories, smokescreens and fantasies, and a revolving door of defense attorneys, the United States Supreme Court has denied Mumia Abu-Jamal's request for a new trial, period. Now, barring any extraordinary new evidence, the best Jamal can hope for is to avoid the death chamber, as the Supreme Court is still reviewing whether or not to reinstate his original sentence of death.

Abu-Jamal has long asserted that he was denied a fair trial. Yet, if one reviews the original court transcripts, it's easy to realize that Jamal did everything in his power to ensure that his original trial was not fair: he interfered with court procedure, he shouted profanities at the judge, he refused to cooperate with his attorney, he was disruptive, abusive and apathetic. He had to be removed approximately eleven times, just so the trial could proceed. Blame it on youth, rage, and hormones, I guess.

Now, a wizened, graying, 54-year-old prisoner called "Pops" by his fellow inmates, the more mature and mellow Mumia is all-of-a-sudden invested in a fair trial. I wonder, if he got one, if he would wear a coat and tie and follow court procedure this time. Would he keep the "Fuck you, Judge!" outbursts to a minimum? Probably. It's too little too late, though.

The fact of the matter is that this crime was committed by a hateful, thoughtless, fearless young man-- and the behavior exhibited in the courtroom during the 1982 trial matched his street actions quite accurately. But somehow Jamal has been able to make much of the world forget his violent and callous disposition of yesteryear and lull us into complacency with his eloquent poignancy of today. It's no different than imprisoned killers who suddenly find religion-- their's or somebody else's, in jail. Mumia found an attractive persona that endears him to white and black alike, and he wears it like a comfortable sport coat.

But, sport coat or not, he won't be getting a table at the Supreme Court's restaurant.

Nevertheless, the throng of Mumia supporters will not be quelled so easily. They do not want this book closed for, once it is, what is their purpose in the world? Who will they chant for in the street? Whose name will they shout relentlessly in the ear of a tired, ostracized widow?

I'd like to say something directly to all of you supporters of this man: you have devoted significant portions of your lives to the aim of supporting Mumia Abu-Jamal, a convicted cop-killer-- a man whose appeals have been slammed and rejected time and time again. Yet, each time, you take to the streets of Philadelphia, Chicago, Los Angeles, Paris and beyond, and cheer him on. You write leaflets and create websites and you march and you speak and you write and you give time and compassion and energy and money. You have done much for him, and have asked for nothing in return.

Well, I think it's time you start asking him for something in return.

Ask him for his version of what happened on December 9th, 1981, between 3:50am and 3:52am.

Go ahead. Ask.

He's never volunteered the information, you know. Not once has he ever explained in detail his own actions and whereabouts during those critical two minutes-- two minutes that I am certain he remembers very, very well-- even after twenty-eight years. Maybe he hasn't described the events of that night because none of his supporters have asked him to. Well, no time like the present. The "Free Mumia Abu-Jamal" website even encourages you to contact him.

I think it's a great idea, too.

Mumia Abu-Jamal
AM 8335SCI-Greene
175 Progress Drive
Waynesburg, PA 15370

Go ahead and drop him a line. He certainly has plenty of time to answer your letters now.