A new day, and a new chance for a little money

Over the weekend we, here at Life Explained, had an epiphany. It was brought about the by the gross injustice foisted upon the average citizen. It seems that writer +Adele Archer (hereafter referred to as our client) is not allowed to participate in the Wimbledon Tennis Championship. This decision was based solely on the fact that our client never took the time to learn to play tennis. Forgive us if our voice trembles slightly with outrage.

Our crack legal team was so filled with anger they worked around the clock. Finally, churning out an 800 page brief. It was a 200,000 word work of art, conveying the outrage, and indignity suffered since the dawn of organized sports. Covering the terrible victimization of kids who always got picked last for the kick ball team, young men humiliated by their inability to hit a softball, bowlers who could never crack 100, and golfers who could never crack 100 going the other direction.

It addressed the income inequality of the "super athletes" making presidential campaign money, and the average guy busting his hump carrying rocks from one end of the quarry to the other. Sure, being born with an ungodly amount of talent, and working tirelessly to develop the skills should count for something, but this has gone too far.

We demanded justice, our client should be allowed to participate at Wimbledon, if that is her wish. Kids who can't dribble, make a lay-up or turn around without falling over should not be excluded from the fame and riches of the NBA, if that is their dream. Skating should not be a requirement to play in the NHL. Too long have people longed for stardom and riches in this tilted, slanted unfair world.

Unfortunately, the judge said 800 pages, and 200,000 words was too long, and not really brief at all. If we wanted him to consider the case we should make it "a little more brief and a lot less lengthy."

Back to the drawing board. But, our indignation has not wavered, nor has our desire for a little of the gold handed out so easily by the managing entities of professional sports. Nothing a pair of scissors can't fix.

Pardon me, sir, would you have any chocolate syrup?

We managed to quell the uprising in the 6th floor break room  (Dangit, we are serious about that ice cream!) using diplomacy.  We promised there would be no retaliation if they laid down their arms and gave up the fight.  As soon as they walked out, arms raised in the air, we fired them all.

They left without much fuss, but returned later in the day armed with lawyers.  We fired them, too.  Then we offered to represent the poor, unemployed goof offs from the accounting department ourselves, and we would do it Pro Bono, unless the settlement was huge then tossing a little something our way couldn't hurt, we are one big family after all, right?

Justice is blind visually impaired
and does not hear too well, either.
Justice is just having problems.

Fortunately, for everybody, we are reasonable people and decided to settle out of court.  We hired all of the accountants back, at entry level wages, and paid them a settlement that would even out the income for the year, then we charged our insurance company for the trauma we all faced, and sued the local, state and federal governments for not interceding on our behalf, and allowing the situation to get completely out of control.

After the dust settled we turned a tidy little profit.  Plus, we get a huge tax break because of our reduced payroll in accounting.  The local government has agreed to a huge tax subsidy to keep us from leaving, despite the treacherous conditions.  Seeing how resourceful we handled this potential crisis the state and federal government are offering us huge contracts to supply goods and services, and brother, do we have some dang fine goods, and services, and we have ice cream.  Life is good, you know.

See you in court, buddy.

Lately I have been listening to several different history podcasts, (any of you in the Life Explained Nation who happen to know my wife are forbidden to tell her, she already thinks I'm kind of a geek, and needs no more ammunition, she already has NPR (National Public Radio), PRI (Public Radio International), CoC (Clash of Clans) countless apps on several touch screen devices, and a variety of stylus's (stylii?) with which to manipulate them, besides she is kind of a bully) seeking some Explanation of Life.

I haven't found it yet, but, am pursuing several leads down a variety of avenues, and back roads, and alleyways, and canals that pass for streets in some parts of the world, cart paths, in areas still to discover the joys of highway travel and sidewalks, bike paths and parking lots all over the dammed place.  I have not really worked out the answers yet, but have noticed several things.

1. No matter how hard mankind tries to infuse the present situation with a special sense of importance and relevance things seem to cycle through fairly predictable patterns.  Prior to almost every momentous, or catastrophic occurrence a group of people convinced a much larger group of people that the only choice was to follow them blindly.
2. The Renaissance was no picnic.  It may have been an improvement, but wow, people could be pretty brutal, even in times of "artistic enlightenment."
3. Technology is a blessing and a curse, even something that seems so beneficial as the printing press can be revolutionary, and can bring terrible consequences.  Think what Martin Luther could have accomplished with an iPhone and social networking.
4. As a race we are very good at improvising, and inventing, but not so keen on considering and controlling the outcomes.  Somehow, we have always managed to assume that things will work out, and we are in control.

It seems mankind has a real propensity for self importance, and large scale destruction.  Of course, there were probably some good things happening through history, but it was probably just an accident, somebody probably turned the wrong lever while trying to create a more powerful, incendiary explosive, and by a completely unusual turn of events, accidentally developed the pizza oven.

There is probably some new storm of human machination brewing just beyond the horizon right now, and it will kick over the apple cart and cause all sorts of problems, and we will all think, "wow, that was awful," but that will be the end of it.  We may be dancing on the edge right now, and not even realize.  One thing is fairly certain, as long as we are in charge of our own destiny things look bleak.  Animals and plants all over are waiting impatiently for our demise, and hoping we don't take them with us.

Right now, I am assembling an indictment against humanity.  We will be bringing charges against the human race from the beginning of recorded history, and possibly before if we can find any reliable eye witnesses.  Depending on your particular relationship with humanity you might want to retain legal council.

Sam Dorpman. The Ongoing Saga of Satan’s Attorney.

Hades has a lot of noise, there is all the anguish and moaning, gnashing of teeth, rending of garments, and general pained bitching and whining.  It is hell, after all.  In an atmosphere like that you need to have a liberal view of volume while watching Television.  So it was with Satan, he had it gassed while watching “Keeping Up With the Almost Famous.”  He planned on taking some notes, and using them in his next negotiation, but forgot to grab a pen, and thought, “I’ll just remember, I’m real good at that.” 

When you keep your TV loud enough to drown out all that misery you need to make sure your phone rings like a siren.  Satan doesn’t take chances, his phone could wake the dead, if they weren’t already awake, and doing the lowly jobs that keep the fires of the underworld stoked.  When it rang, Satan was so startled, he may have been dozing, he spilled a little of his drink, right on the front of his fiery red, asbestos pajamas.

“Damn,” he exclaimed.

“Hello, Beelzebub here, can I tempt you?” he asked the caller politely.

“Hey, it’s Sam, Sam Dorpman.  Your lawyer.  I have a deal, a sweet, sweet deal, for you.  We can make some serious dough on this one.  Do you have a minute?”

“Not sure I should give you a minute, you have been pretty hard on me the last few times I was there.  Remember that guy, Bob, I think, from the roof, he was on board, ready to ink the deal, and you let him slide.  But, the donuts were good.”  Satan said, longing for something sweet, thinking there was a package of cookies in the cupboard, and making a mental note to get a cordless phone.

“It never would have stood up in court, I was looking out for you, that’s all.”  Sam sounded a little hurt.

“Listen, though, here is my plan.  I will represent you, and we will sue me!  It is genius, Lucifer.  We will start with the Bob Williams case and work our way through all of those contracts you fouled up so much.”  Sam was getting so excited his voice was beginning to rise.

“Not so loud, soon we won’t need a phone.”  Satan said, moving the phone away from his ear a little.

“Sorry, but this could make us rich.  I will put you on the stand, and you can tell the jury how I took advantage of our relationship to make you look incompetent.  You can tell them how you started losing self confidence, it cost you souls, and you started drinking, which only exacerbated the whole situation.  Juries love to take pity on a lost soul, and normally they hate lawyers.  That is where we will get them, too.  I will put myself on the stand, and badger and browbeat me, I will be ruthless.  Until finally I breakdown and admit that I have been intentionally misleading you.  The jury will have no choice but to award you a huge settlement, and we can split it 60  /  40, and both come out way ahead.  What do you think?”  If you had been in the law offices of Sam’s Good Legal Advice you would have seen him wipe the sweat from his brow and the spittle from the handset.

“I love it,” replied Mephistopheles, “but, who is going to pay the settlement?”

“You know, I never really thought about that.  Let me get back to you.  I won’t bill you for this call, ok?”

“Thanks, I’ll talk to you later, Sam.”  Satan hung up, got some cookies and thought about getting a new lawyer.