Pip couldn’t speak for himself, so I would be his defense lawyer. The best defense is a good offense.
A charm offensive.
First, I left a sweet-as-pie reply note on my own door explaining the unfortunate misunderstanding and leaving all my contact info should she wish to discuss it further.
Although I never heard from my accuser, I know she received it, because she ripped the note from my door, leaving a bit of torn tape and paper behind.
Luckily, I retained a copy for my records.
Second, instead of being afraid of my neighbors, I was chatty and solicitous. I held doors, I helped unload groceries, I brought coffee to the doormen. And each time, I was sure to bring up the case of mistaken identity in our conversation.
“I just feel so sorry I can’t help whoever is being disturbed, but you know it couldn’t be Pip,” I’d say.
“Oh, no, I never hear him bark. He’s such a good boy.”
Say it louder, so the jury can hear you.
I called our superintendent myself and said I had a sensitive matter to discuss. He came over, and I told him, through quavering voice, how upset I was that a mystery neighbor would think I was so inconsiderate and was now leaving threatening notes.
“I mean, ‘barking all day’? My Pip?” I gestured to the dog, who lay flat on the ground. He wagged his tail lightly when I said his name.
He couldn’t have performed better if I’d coached him.
“If all my tenants were as nice and quiet as you and Pip, my job would be much easier,” my super said. “Do you have the note?”
Of course I’d preserved the evidence.
He read it. “I think I know who this might be. Lots of problems with this tenant, not your fault. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you!” I was relieved. And I was confident that I wouldn’t hear from my cranky neighbor again.
I never did.
Turns out, the illuminati is me.
Question Authority
Lisa
History was made in the Supreme Court, this week.
Why?
That’s your question, isn’t it?
It’s a natural question.
And just coincidentally, it’s the very point of this column, which is that history was made this week in the Supreme Court because it is the first time in ten years that Justice Clarence Thomas has asked a question.
This would be my kind of Supreme Court Justice.
I’m guessing he never asked a question because he has all the answers.
I mean, what good is a Supreme Court Justice if he has to go asking the lawyers questions every time they come in to argue their case?
He’s not there to do their job.
He’s there to do his job.
Which is to … well, be.
In a robe.
You’ve heard the expression, “Question authority.”
Well, you don’t need to question authority if you are the authority.
You’ve probably also heard people say, “Can I ask a dumb question?”
And whenever somebody says that, usually somebody else will say something like, “There are no dumb questions.”
But Justice Thomas knows that isn’t true.
Every question is a dumb question.
Especially if you know everything.
And are smarter than absolutely everyone.
The sheer brilliance of Justice Thomas can be better understood when you realize that only the toughest cases in the entire country reach the lofty heights of the Supreme Court. In fact, I was curious about the percentage of cases that got to the high court, so I went online to the Supreme Court’s website to find that information. Of course, the first place I turned was their FAQs, which stands for Frequently Asked Questions.
Justice Thomas never has Frequently Asked Questions.
Only dumb people do, like me.
And others who use websites for information.
The answer on the website says verbatim, “The Court receives approximately 7,000-8,000 petitions for a writ of certiorari each Term. The Court grants and hears oral argument in about 80 cases.”
The website didn’t say what percentage that is.
But you get the idea.
It’s pretty damn few.
And I know from my lawyer days that the Supreme Court takes only those cases that are the most demanding, difficult, and cutting-edge in all of American jurisprudence.
So you can imagine how incredibly brilliant Justice Clarence Thomas is that he doesn’t even have a question about these impossibly difficult legal cases that come before him.
I stand in awe.
Because I have questions about everything.
My first question is, if the Supreme Court gets eight thousand petitions and only grants eighty, what percentage is that?
I think the answer is either 10 percent or 1 percent, but I’m bad at decimals.
And I have other questions, too.
In fact, I have so many questions, my head can’t hold them all.
And my questions aren’t even about the hard cases that come before the Supreme Court, but just about the dumb stuff that happens to me every day.
For example, can I ever train the dogs not to bother the cat?
Or, why do I keep forgetting where I left my phone?
And, who keeps peeing on the rug in the entrance hall?
Is it me?
I can never stay quiet when I have questions and often interrupt people who are saying things, just to start asking questions. For example, if I get lost and you start giving me directions, I will ask you in thirty seconds if you just said left or right. It’s not that I didn’t hear you, it’s just that I have a question.
I have questions about everything I read and about everything I see on TV, and sometimes I even have questions for myself, like why am I watching this dumb TV show?
I’M FULL OF QUESTIONS.
So as soon as I heard that Justice Thomas had asked his first question in ten years, I had a question.
The question was, What was Justice Thomas’s question?
So I looked it up and found out that the case involved a man named Mr. Voisine who had shot and killed a bald eagle, and when the police went to Mr. Voisine’s house to investigate, they found a gun. But as it turned out, Mr. Voisine had a criminal record of fourteen convictions for domestic violence, and because of that, his owning a rifle was in violation of the Lautenberg Amendment, a federal statute that makes it illegal for convicted domestic abusers to own guns.
Justice Thomas’s question was, “Can you give me another area where a misdemeanor violation suspends a constitutional right?”
Which is proof that there are dumb questions.
No matter how you feel about gun rights, I think we can all agree that a man with fourteen counts of domestic abuse, in addition to taking aim at our nation’s symbol, is not the poster boy for the NRA.
Justice Stephen Breyer almost said as much, when he replied, “We don’t have to decide that here.”
And, of course, I have a question.
My question is, What the hell?
But lately, that is becoming an FAQ.
Something We Can All Agree On
Lisa
I’m watching everything about the elections.
I’m watching the Republicans.
I’m watching the Democrats.
I’m watching the debates and the rallies.
I’m watching the entrance polls and the exit polls.
You get the idea.
I’m all over the election situation.