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July 20, 2005

Volume 3, Issue 20

President Bush has nominated John Roberts, Jr. to replace the retiring Sandra Day O'Connor on the United States Supreme Court.

The theme for the day is the word: judge.

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The Eschatologist: Shift Work

"I don't wanna drive this time. You drive."

"Fuck that. It's your turn."

"You're off your ass, Pete. Besides, he's a cranky old fuck. Always whinin' about how fast I'm going. Duh, he knows the law, but how are we supposed to get to the crime scene on time if I do the speed limit?"

"He's the boss, asswipe. You're lucky he doesn't find you in contempt every time you drive."

"Blow me. Alright. I'll go, but you owe me for this one."

"Whatever. Just fill out your time card."

"Mobile Magistrate Service. What bullshit. I need a new job."

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Michele: A Quart or So

He’d had this fantasy since 1982 and he vowed some day to live it. Twenty years later it seemed lame by fantasy standards. Even so, he had spent $200 to make this happen.


She swayed her way to the diving board, all hips and tits, the most perfect measurements of body parts he’d ever seen. His breath hitched as she moved her long legs up the ladder. He shivered slightly as she faced him: tanned, sleek, gorgeous, undoing the front clasp of her oh, so tiny bikini.

He tipped his beer to Judge Reinhold as the show played on.

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Tanya: Matthew 7: 1-2

"You're gonna burn in hell, sinner!" the old man hissed, beside her.

She was walking her dog past the little church, having forgotten that service was letting out. A middle-aged woman noticed her and called out, "Jesus is going to punish you, atheist!"

"You're evil and God's gonna make you burn!" They taunted her this way whenever they saw her, but it was worse on Sundays. She told herself that all small towns were this way.

"You should be ashamed! God will see that you're..."

The bolt of lightning, which turned them into a pile of ashes, left her untouched.

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Ted: Self-Determination

I saw my beating heart on the balance and wondered if it would be too heavy for me to progress. But somehow, it managed to balance exactly. I had witnessed a benedictine burn while a thief turned to light.

How is it that I am balanced?

The Dog turned to me.

"Only the individual can judge his weight of sin. The nun was convinced that her sin was real. The thief was only feeding his family. Your heart is full of public greatness and private ills. You have a choice, a thing rare indeed.

Do you wish to try again?"

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Stacy: The End

"How dare you judge me," she hissed, her beautiful face streaked with tears. "You don't know what it's like to be lonely. You don't have any goddamned feelings!!"

His shoulders hunched at her words, and he continued to pack the suitcase. A part of him wondered when they quit talking to each other, and just started talking at each other. How had he missed the signs, the little things that would have told him she was bringing other men into their home... Their bed.

He snapped the suitcase shut and brushed past her without a word.

Without a feeling, indeed.

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