Friday, October 15, 2010

Emily's New Hat



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It's my Friday.



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All week in crazy meetings with attorneys.


There is a huge difference between cops and lawyers. We might as well be different species. And I'm talking prosecutors, not defense folks. (They really are a different species.)

Cops are mostly linear thinkers, and big proponents of, and adherents to, Occam's Razor. We like to come onto a scene, size it up quickly, figure out who's who in the zoo, and then dispense ass-whippings to the bad men and take statements from the victims, let the amberlamps take away the injured and we haul someone off to jail. No matter how freaky, crazy, blood-and-smoke-in-the-air a goatfuck it is, pretty quick we've got it all handled and we're off to the next show.

Even as detectives, that same philosophical stance holds. After all, we all came up the same way. By the time we got into dicks, we'd gotten really good at it, which was why we were in dicks in the first place. So we roll up on a murder, and, yeah, it's a LOT slower and more methodical, but still, it's pull on a thread, and pull on it again, and keep pulling it until you get to the bad guy at the end of it. You don't go running down every blind alley you come across, you just can't. You'll get bad lost and you'll fuck up your case and your bad guy will spend the rest of your life laughing at you.


But a lawyer is a different bird altogether. They work it backwards. Take the simplest set of facts, and then see how fucked up you can make them. The defense is going to try to introduce doubts and questions, so lets beat them to it. Lets see how many possible permutations have been left unexplored by the cops so far. What if he was wearing a blue shirt? What if he had a green hat on? What if the video is wrong? What if the DNA results don't mean what we think they mean? What if they do mean what we think they mean, but no one believes us? What if this, what if that.

So all week I've been sitting in meetings watching attorneys clamber all over footballs, trying like mad to fuck them.

It makes me want to pick them up by the scruff of their necks and shake them real hard and then set them back down.



"Now play nice, goddamn it."




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But it is in their nature. God bless them.



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And I know what we look like to them. A bunch of ham-fisted, slow-witted deviants going off half-cocked all the time.


Which we kind of are.


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So, that was my week.



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My beautiful and amazing wife is down for the count with a bad cold. And I have not been taking care of her like I should have been. She's been on her own.

I'll try to make up for that this weekend and send her to pamperville. Not to be confused with Pampersville, a different place entirely.


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Tonight I made a frittata with veggies and shrimp and chipotle sausage and goat cheese, served with a loaf of crusty french bread.


It were good.


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I bet I missed a hundred opportunities to do something nice for someone this week.


Won't be the first time.


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Namaste.



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17 Comments:

Blogger Craig Sorensen said...

Your perspective on cops and lawyers is fascinating. A very different world than my own, and yet, I have a frame of reference the business world.

I understand the friction caused by two different mindsets working toward a (sometimes) common goal.

The frittata sounds delicious.

I'm sure Pamperville will have your wife back on her feet in no time.

All the best.

Craig

1:30 AM  
Anonymous flamingo dancer said...

I hope that your wife is feeling better soon.
Daughter is a lawyer, though not in your field, but I guess that is their job, to guess all the what ifs before it goes to court and all your hard work gets lost and the bad guy gets to laugh at everyone. I think it is frustrating for them too at times.

5:26 AM  
Blogger Ms. Moon said...

I come from a long line of lawyers. LONG line. My grandfather clerked for Oliver Wendell Holmes. But he really wanted to be a musician. My old drunk dead daddy ended his days in a hole-in-the-wall office in Chattanooga, defending little boys busted for pot.
He really wanted to be a cowboy.
I have not lived out my destiny and am neither a lawyer, a cowboy, or a musician.
But I can cook.
I think about your life and am gobstruck. What a thing to be! I can't even imagine how your mind works, much less how your days go.
I am glad you cook. And make art.
I think that portrait is you, looking out at the world through all four of your eyes.
I hope your wife feels better today and even better tomorrow.

6:32 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Craig-

Welcome! Glad to have you stop by.


Yeah, people are the same everywhere. We're all fucked up. It's fun seeing all the different ways we manage to be crazy.

All best-


tearful

7:40 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

flamingo dancer-

thanks, i hope she's better soon, too.

Dont' get me wrong, I know we need lawyers. Somebody needs to figure all that shit out.

Just not me.


Ha.


yrs-


tearful

7:41 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Ms. Moon-


Wow. None of my grandfathers clerked for Oliver Wendell Holmes. That yours did is not just sort of amazing and cool.

Your dead drunk daddy ending his days in a hole-in-the-wall office in Chattanooga, dreaming of being a cowboy, well, there's a damn novel right there. Or a play. I can see the old bird standing on a drab stage, dusty war surplus office furniture, a bottle of rye on the desk, weak yellow light suffusing the shabby room, his threadbare jacket tossed over a chair, his tie loosened, shirtsleeves rolled up, a calendar on the wall with a picture of a bucking bronco the only clue to his secret heart's desire......

Oh, and by the way, you nailed it on the portrait.


yrs-


tearful

7:48 AM  
Blogger dottie kee bones said...

i'm going to spend my life wishing and hoping you write a book, man.

(travel gives me bad colds, too. i'm just just just getting past a bad one and i feel for your wife. my warmest wishes for her speeeeeeeedy recovery!)


um. wv is purge, which i will not do!

8:50 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Dottie-

I'm practicing, man.


One of these days.



(ps- thank you. i mean it. yr sweet.)


and, yeah, don't purge.



yrs-


Scott

9:02 AM  
Blogger Radish King said...

The hat is truly delicious and Emily has her eyes on every single thing that is going on around her every single minute. She doesn't miss a thing. I would ask her to dance at a fancy ball. I would never tell her how I snorked into my fist when I first met her. There is something in the Bible about angels unawares but I am embarrassed by how much of the Bible I know so I don't like to trot it out. You sir are one of those angels. I know it for a fact so there's no way you can back out of it.

Love,
Rebecca used to be called FOUR EYES when I was a kid

9:30 AM  
Blogger Radish King said...

ps. I have known many lawyer artists and I have to say their art was squat. I have known one artist cop and one artist parole officer and I don't know where parole officers fit into the mix but their art was amazing and mesmerizing. Just the facts.
xo

9:32 AM  
Blogger T. Clear said...

I spent a three-year period of my life not so long ago dealing with an entire herd of lawyers -- thirteen in all. Their attention to the tiniest, seemingly irrelevant details made me scream, regularly. At one meeting I had a serious meltdown in front of three of them, and they quietly sat and stared at me while I lost it. At least they didn't tell me to shut it, I give them that.

But to be fair, a few of them were the most decent people on the planet. I'll always be grateful to them.

A blessing to you for giving us these glimpses into your life,
and for affirming those things that remain holy, no matter what the circumstances.

9:36 AM  
Anonymous Nathanial Hoodrich said...

Hey, I found myself in your blogroll and just wanted to say that I am enjoying the hell out of your blog.

This is a great post - paragraph 4 (Cops are mostly linear thinkers,) in particular, is a smokin' bit of writing.

Keep up good work, Scott.

Namaste.

11:57 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Radish-


I wouldn't mind being an angel. As long as I could smite people.


And I don't know how parole officers fit, either. Half cop, half social worker, half mindless bureaucrat, half public school teacher, half janitor.

That's a lot of halves.

love-

tearful

2:11 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

T. Clear-

Three years with any bunch of lawyers is too long.

Thanks for your kindness, as always.


yrs-


tearful

2:12 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Nathaniel-

dude! most awesome to see you here. I dig your blog super bad, and I'm thrilled you came by and said hi.


Hope to see more of you around.


yrs-


Scott

2:13 PM  
Blogger Petit fleur said...

Wow. Those two groups working together sounds a little like torture.

2:42 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Petit Fleur-


It can be.

But I love my job, that's for sure. It's worth putting up with the small tortures.


yrs-

tearful

7:42 AM  

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