What So Fair About Being Fair?

I woke up today with the GOUT.

What the Fuck?? Didn't I just finish with this mother- fucker?? This one was a bad one too. It felt like my foot had blown up to three times its size. Looking at it, it appeared normal, but the pain and the throbbing was beyond measure. What in the fuck is going on with this fucking GOUT all the time? This time I was pissed off. Way pissed off.

I began popping COL- CHICINE and pain killers like chicklets. I had to have this entire foot thing sorted out by tomorrow, because tomorrow was my Fair Hearing, and I have to say one thing, I'm glad the GOUT decided to kick in today, giving me a day to deal with it. It would have been bad if it kicked in tomorrow. Very bad. I would have had to gimp all the way downtown and gimp back up. But today, I'm OD-ing on COLCHICINE and getting busy. I ate cheese to lock up and counteract the side effect of the drug, and stayed off the feet.

I'm getting good at dealing with this shit now. I'm scanning the web for gout information and can't seem to find shit other than diets in high meat 'purines' can cause high Uric Acid levels in the body. Well, that torpedoes that theory because I don't eat that much meat. A throwback from my vegetarian days. I was just never all that big on fucking meat. So what explains the high purines?

I deal with a light hangover and dry mouth, so dry that I feel as if I'm suffocating. I drink a gallon of Crystal Lite just to get the dry taste out of my mouth and start to feel normal again. That was one thing that I forgot about Jack Daniels. The motherfucker could dry your ass from the inside out. Shit, I went into the bathroom and pissed sand and shat talcum powder.

I slept much of the day away, the painkillers knocking me out period- ically. I swung in and out of pain, cursing the day my body stopped processing Purines. I got up from time to time, limping painfully about, not letting my foot completely off with placing weight down on it. I wanted it to start to get into gear for tomorrow. Tomorrow would be the defining moment. Everything had to go smoothly for me to succeed. And the GOUT was not part of the equation.

Tomorrow, which was the day of my fucking Fair Hearing. I wonder why they call it 'Fair'.
Is it to convince you that it's fair? What's so fair about it to begin with, if you stop to consider it. I'm being dragged, and I've been dragged through hoops and over broken glass, to get here. I've exhausted every single avenue to avoid this thing, but nothing seems to avail me. It's just the blind, grinding nature of the system is made that way just to give people something to do in the morning. To give an excuse for people to keep their jobs. NO cases NO work. That's the only fairness that it seems to have to me.

And the impressive buildings in Brooklyn that they use to have a fair hearing in, where you can have a lawyer present. We're talking about poor people here. How fair is it to expect them to go out and procure a lawyer for a case such as this? Here, let me just run outside and down the block to the candy ball machine and pick up a lawyer here.... Mighty fucking fair already, if you ask me. Hey, NOBODY is asking me.


Who is pedaling this sick tricycle here?

And the impressive buildings in Brooklyn that you have to report to. Completely intimid- ating. Remember, and for those who don't know, Brooklyn used to be it's own city at one time before it was annexed into New York. It had its own Supreme Court and City Hall and everything else before giving everything up over to the Manhattan higher courts. But the buildings are still standing, collecting dust, and tumble weeds. No, not exactly. They have been re-tooled to become intimidation icons for the poor, because they are being used by the borough courts for criminals and the poor. Which is one and the same to New York. These buildings are not made to be of any comfort, that your best interests are being taken to heart, but instead as a visual symbol of authority and subjugation.

Tall, granite and ivy covered with revered statues and myriads of ascending stairs, all architecturally similar to any other court building of its kind. Imposing and large, filled with police and black robe wearing judges, its purpose is unmistakable. To inspire fear and trepidation.

Do I feel this now. No not yet. I don't think I will until I get there to face 'The Man', but I will surely come face to face with it, because it is made to be so. I've sat in courtrooms before, but never without a pubic defender to speak for me. And since this is not a criminal case, I doubt if I will be given one. This is a so called Fair Hearing.

I sit, drinking coffee by the urn, which I shouldn't be doing, and running back and forth to the bathroom because of the COLCHICINE working my system, and I'm wondering to myself:

When is this shit really going to stop??

I get an email from one of the Administrators in The Box no doubt: "Hey Hobobob, I have a letter here for you for the supreme court. It is the survey for Jury Duty, but all you need to do is fill it out and send it back. When can you come in to pick it up?"

I guess it doesn't.

Hobobob