A Preponderance of Lucidity

writer x

judge judy courtSo my older brother called on the phone the other day out of the blue.   “Wanna feel like a genius?” he said to me.

“Always,” I replied.

“Turn on your TV. You’ve got to watch Judge Judy. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Got to? I think I’d rather fly American Airlines strapped in a middle seat,” I said.

“Trust me,” he said. “Just watch it.”

I sighed and reached for the remote.  Reluctantly, I flipped through the channels and finally landed on Judge Judy, although it wasn’t that difficult. I think it airs on about 13 different channels at every hour of the day, presumably for those who can’t get enough of the drama on just a single network.

And very quickly I understood why.

Watching Judge Judy was like watching the co-hosts from The View discuss First Lady Michelle Obama’s toned arms. Or anything. I felt my brain cells imploding with each second I stared at the set. Yet, I couldn’t break away. I wanted to, really, but I couldn’t.

After all, who wouldn’t want to watch a parent sue his adult son for payment of cheesy Christmas presents?

Or two roommates fighting over an old moldy sweatshirt? Or a cell phone bill?

Or (my personal favorite) a jailed vegan who gets bailed out by a friend because he doesn’t like prison food, and then the friend sues the vegan for the bailout funds? What’s not to like?

Judge Judy dispensed justice from behind her wooden perch without apology; none of the plaintiffs or defendants dared interrupt, speak out of turn, or blink too rapidly, probably because her bailiff stood ready to taser anybody who tried. Too bad Judge Judy can’t moonlight as a high school teacher. Or Treasury Secretary.

And as if watching some of these future beneficiaries of taxpayer-funded entitlements isn’t enticing enough, another enlightening part of the show is the “analysis of the verdict” at the end by the crowd waiting outside the courtroom doors. It was like listening to the rants of a lynch mob. The only thing missing were front teeth, pitchforks, and torches. And a drunk Paula Abdul.

The scariest part of this show? The people on this show vote and procreate. And apparently have no qualms about suing the hell out of each other.

Thanks for the tip, Big Brother.

::Writer X also writes at The 100 Most Annoying Things::

October 24, 2009 9:01 am

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