Trespassing

Dear faithfull followers, all two of you,
Sorry to take so long between blogs. I have slews of excuses, mainly I can't afford broadband. Like most people, I'm expert at making excuses, but who wants to hear them? I heard plenty last week and thought the circumstances might amuse you.
Trespassing
My daughter, Ella, received two subpoenas to appear in court as a witness in a shoplifting case. Ella works in a store. Two Russian girls filched forty dollars worth of cheap accessories: Chinese-made bracelets, purses, hair gizmos, etc, from that store and others nearby.
I complained that Worcester (pronounced Wurster) County has the lowest wages and highest winter unemployment rate in the state. Why do summer businesses import foreign workers like these girls?
Ella didn’t know where the court house was and asked me to go with her. We arrived on time and waited while others trickled in until the waiting room was full and the bailiff opened the court room. We sat on hard, back-breaking benches. A row of chained, prison-garbed arrestees waited on a bench to the side. One of them grinned and told someone, “They arrested me last night.”
Ella whispered, “This is just like the movies.”
“All rise.”
Judge Purnell, the county’s first black judge entered. (Purnell is pronounced two ways in Worcester County. White old timers pronounce it to rhyme with kernel.)
The judge handled the preliminary hearings for the bunch on the bench first: trespassing, resisting arrest, robbery. Purnell told each he had a right to a public defender. She sat in front with a stack of folders and, with one exception, was the only defense lawyer we saw that morning.
Most of the unfortunate souls who took the defendant’s place told stories of being in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong person. These multiple wrongs occurred frequently for them. After we had heard a lot of dumb excuses for dumb behavior, a confident, young, blond man, Mr. Budd, came before the judge. He didn’t have a lawyer and pled guilty to trespassing. “Can I explain?”
“You’ll get your chance,” said the judge, who then turned to a man in the courtroom, “Mr. Wimbrow, has Mr. Mudd paid you the $1,500 in damages I ordered?”
“No, he hasn’t. We thought they had only gone in one field, but they had been in five.”
Mr. Wimbrow (pronounced Wimber by some locals) is a produce farmer with a college education, but he prefers to use the local dialect. He sounded like he’d never been off the farm.
The State’s Attorney explained that the night of the trespassing, police found a mud-covered truck, with two flat tires, stuck in Mr. Wimbrow’s field. Mr. Mudd was the driver. Behind that truck, was another mud-covered truck stuck in the mud. Mr. Budd was in that truck, which belonged to Mr. Mudd’s father. They had driven over Mr. Wimbrow’s fields making huge ruts.
Mr. Budd explained, “I don’t have anything to do with Mr. Mudd anymore, don’t hang out with him, but he called me that night and said he was stuck. Since he was an old school chum and all, I went out and got his dad’s truck.” Budd rambled on at length and mentioned he worked all the time on a boat.
Judge Purnell heard him out and said he was tired of seeing him in court. “I don’t know whether it’s bad judgement or what…” The judge ordered Budd to pay Mr. Wimbrow $750. Budd strenuously objected that all he pled guilty to was trespassing. “Mudd told me he had to pay the $1,500, why should I have to pay anything?”
“Is this the Mudd you don’t have anything to do with?”
“He called me up.” Budd rambled into another extensive defense, mentioning again how he worked all the time.
“Good, you will be able to pay this man, then. Now when can you do it?”
After a few more cases, the Russian girls came before the judge. A translator spoke for them and since they didn’t have a lawyer and were returning to Russia in a month, Judge Purnell arranged for them to meet with the public defender immediately. They went out with their translator and public defender and after some time, returned. Since both a civil witness, Ella, and a police officer were there, they pled guilty. The judge ordered them to pay $258 each, court costs and fines. Too bad the law doesn’t allow witness compensation.
The next week, I told this story to the gang at the feed store. A man there said, “Wimber’s had a time with those boys.” Thirty or forty of them have been driving around in his fields for the last two years. At first he just wanted them to fix the damage, but some of them told him, “You can’t make us do anything.”
“We’ll see what I can make you do.”

Destruction of fishing industry sample of what government will do to healthcare

When scientists, state and federal fisheries managers couldn’t agree on the sea bass quota this summer, Pat Kurkle, National Marine Fisheries regional director issued an ultimatum. Either leave the quota as it was this year (the lowest ever) or she would close federal waters to sea bass fishing for 2010. This is the same kind of tyrannical bureaucrat we’ll have deciding our non-healthcare if Obamacare passes.

Fishermen, both recreational and commercial complain about the excessive numbers of dogfish, but NMFS refuses to increase fishing for them. An Ocean City fisherman has been landing smooth dogfish this summer. The dealer needs the fish gutted. NMFS is proposing a law banning ocean processing. Processing means gutting the fish so they'll keep better.

Having seen how the government has destroyed commercial fishing, it disturbs me that the government is taking over other aspects of our economy. The government can destroy our livelihoods and our freedom.