The case.

Check out the second comment:

"Thirty-six of the 45-person jury pool answered a questionnaire that "they believe that Mr. Bordelon is guilty, that public officials who have been indicted are probably guilty "

Uhhh, Mike, 45 of the 45 jurors , if asked, would believe the person guilty because they hired you.
A dubious distinction to be sure, but nonetheless factual.
You're that good.

That's too true. I thought the most prejudicial thing in the courtroom was Mr. Small's appearance there.

On the other hand, Lyman says it's best to have a good lawyer before you tell the Feds more than your name. There are too many traps they can lay which can result in conflicting testimony and perjury charges.

Back to the case, that 16-month delay before the report to the Louisiana Board of Ethics looks funny.

Yesterday was another long, boring day. The selection process continued all day long, most of which we spent waiting. The jury was finally announced at about 4:30.

While it's still running 85 degrees in the afternoon, the courtroom was as cold as a hospital. After the day before, when I'd worn a sleeveless pullover under a heavy cardigan and boat shoes, I wore a wool blazer over a long-sleeved top and ankle boots with heavy socks and was still uncomfortably cool.

The court clerk shuffled the seating arrangement after lunch, and I was moved from my padded armchair to a bare bench. Next to me sat another middle-aged woman who was a deputy clerk of court in another arena that I don't remember. She was much concerned that work was piling up back at the office. Of the three women who work together, she was out for jury duty, and another had called in sick, leaving only one to handle the workload.

When the jury was announced, she quietly, desperately said, "They called my name."

We didn't finish voir dire. I have to go back to Alexandria tomorrow. But I can start in daylight. I report at nine. Starting at seven should get me there with time to spare.

One of the best defense lawyers in the state is defending the accused. If it weren't a daily 150-mile round trip, I'd welcome the chance to watch him work.

The prosecuting attorney is African-American. One of the general questions to jurors was "Have you ever been a juror in a trial. What type of trial was it? What was the outcome?"

One potential juror said, "It was a state trial. A black man raped a white woman. He got off." Won't they call that a strike for cause?

LATER: Lyman says the prosecutor might try, but to remember that the juror thought the defendant was guilty, and that's what a prosecutor wants.

My luck ran out. I report at 8:15 tomorrow morning in Alexandria for jury duty.

Rats.

Oh my. Another oversexed parrot:



Does the parrot look owl-like to you? Around the face? And the shape of his body? The markings on his feathers?

(Thanks, Daily Dish.)

I welcome that. Potential jurors are required to call the evening before their reporting dates for instructions.

The recorded voice told me to call again next Sunday. No drive to Alexandria at the crack of dawn this week.

Oh, my. A film crew is in Natchez. My brother has been cast as a Southern planter in a vampire-zombie film.

How about that for your resume?

I don't understand the culture of "papering" trees, never have. You do know what that is? You fling rolls of toilet paper over the high branches of trees and make a mess of a yard.

That happened last night to the empty house next door. Usually, it's a statement of some sort. "We hate you" or "Whoa, so you're a cheerleader?"

This time, it was what? Pretty much petty vandalism, I'd say.

I walked over and picked the stuff off the ground. Funny thing was, it was not Charmin, but good quality toilet paper. They left the plastic bag in the yard. "Maker's Mark."

I hope this isn't a new advertising scheme.

I have been summoned as a potential juror for the US Western District Court in Louisiana. It meets in Alexandria.

Let me tell you, if I have to wake up several mornings in a row and leave home at 6 to drive a two-lane highway to arrive at 8 am, I can guarantee that someone is guilty. Now whether it's that poor defendant in the dock, I'm not ready to say.

Now that was a fun, jubilant wedding ceremony. First of all, the program was a church fan. It was an outdoor wedding on a glorious autumn day.

First procession was a black gospel choir singing Down by the Riverside.

A more solemn hymn was sung while stragglers were seated, and the bride walked to "Love Me Tender."

Ceremony.

The newly-married couple exited to "O, Happy Day."

The bride's maids were dressed in the same teal color, but in styles flattering to their figures. The bride wore a gorgeous beige dress with train. No veil.

That's what happens when you've been seeing the same guy for seven years and you're 36.

I've never had so much fun at a wedding. But I like black gospel music.

I'm going to another niece's wedding this weekend, so I stopped by the hairdresser for a cut.

I was put aside for a while and happened upon Martha Stewart's version (which is not this recipe) of Broken Glass Cupcakes.

Scares me.

A newly discovered James M. Cain novel.

I spent $5 in gas today to find $2 shoelaces. And didn't.

Thirty-inch tan shoelaces are not to be found in this town. Thank goodness for ShoeLacesExpress.

I ran across this story about online custom shirt-makers while pursuing something else.

Just putting it out there. One of my brothers in Texas has shirts made by a tailor in Dallas.

LATER: Comments to that article provide some other sources:

EPIC -- good prices
Modern Tailor -- $19.95 introductory offer for fit
My Tailor -- large selection of ties and cufflinks (I like the handpainted coins), luxury fabrics

Gentlemen, a good quality soft shirt makes you touchable.

Good news on a Monday morning!

The thief was caught driving the car. The car is back, in all its laughable glory. The stepson took it to the repair shop to replace a side window and check out an exhaust leak. The mechanics guffawed at the thought that someone would steal it.

I guess crackheads will do anything.

Thanks, Natchez Police Department!

I am channeling Mama.

Just after school started, she'd take after the housekeeping. It was always as close to immaculate as a mother of many can keep it, but once we were outsourced to the schoolroom she'd go after the pantries, cabinets, closets and light fixtures. She'd move furniture to dust and sweep and mop and clean baseboards. Then rearrange it to give a new prospect to old furniture. Wash windows.

For me, it started with the office, proceeded to our bedroom, then to the pantry. Tomorrow begins the outdoor storage room, as the weather has broken.

Before tropical storm Lee we had summer, now we have fall. It feels good.

Well, nothing on the car. I'm afraid it's a goner.

We all liked that car. It was a good size and shape, you could put $5 worth of gas in it and run for two weeks.

On a better note, we had three days of lovely slow rain (about 5 inches), and predictions are that we won't break 90 degrees for the next week.

This recipe for General Tso's Chicken from Chef Tony is a keeper. We reduced the sugar to a 1/2 tablespoon.

Do tell. Someone stole my 1997 Ford Escort Wagon. It was parked outside the Bienville Apartments.

After my son took it, I wouldn't drive it. I have some hygienic standards.

Ferals.

I was running around yesterday doing errands.

After I'd walked into the house for the last time, Charles Gore the grey asked, "What you doing, sweet baby?"

Irish writer John Banville, writing under alias Benjamin Black, uses an Alvis TC108 Super Graber Coupe in Elegy for April.

He doesn't treat it well.