Monday's are a trial. Today even more so.
The day starts with the daily 6:15 a.m. run and doesn't end until I get out of class at American River College at 10:30 p.m.
Add a beer with a late snack and an episode of the Hitchcock Hour on Hulu and there's just no time or inclination to write something worth posting.
But write I do just to say write I do. It's a very good thing that my promise to write daily for the month of November did not include any measure of value of what I write.
Not that there wasn't something to write about. I spent more than an hour in Department 91 of Juvenile Court today with a dozen juveniles and their parents. (I'll leave out why I was there.) The assembly line nature of the proceedings was amazing. You didn't really need a judge or a clerk. All you really needed was the bailiff to make sure the boys pulled up their pants and tucked in their shirts.
I imagine there will come a day when juvenile infractions and petty misdemeanors will be dealt with without the judge or the clerk. The kids will instead face a camera. A recorded voice will offer them a deal, their acceptance of the deal will be recorded. They will then leave the courtroom and go pick up the forms they'll need to complete the requirements of the deal.
We had a real judge, not a commissioner or some other stand in. The kids and their parents were supposed to appreciate the occasion, the judicial luxury of it. The fact we had a real Superior Court judge and not some lesser being only made the assembly line nature of the proceedings that much more farcical.
It's late. I've got to get to bed. 6:15 a.m. comes quickly.
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