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Posts Tagged with Murphy’s Law

Murphy’s Law: “Get out of jail free” edition

March 13th, 2013 by


“Hey, boss! I didn’t get any toilet paper.” The 2:30 – 3:30 lockdown is imminent. And so is potentially explosive mud-butt.

“Hold your horses,” says the guard, bolting through Echo block. “I’ll get you some.”

“Thanks! The booklet says…” I trail off. He’s gone. The booklet also says I should have a pillow. Nope.

“Lockdown!” he shouts. That’s our cue to gtfo of the common area–a little hallway between a long set of bars and our individual cells. The block’s split in half, with 10 or 12 cells on each side. There’s only 3 other dudes in my half.  I welcome the solitude. The two older dudes are chill, but the younger dude thinks he’s hard, or maybe he is hard. He keeps looking me up and down, wearing an indiscernible expression between “let’s fuck” and “let’s fight.” Maybe it’s both. Maybe I’m just hyper-aware of my asshole because I’ve been damning a river of shit for hours. He’s just trying to size me up, in all likelihood. I cut my own hair last night. Hopefully, it gives off that dangerous-mental-patient vibe I was going for. And Judge Joe Brown does the rest. (more…)


Murphy’s Law: $5,000 bail edition

March 6th, 2013 by

“Bang on that window again, motherfucker, and see what the fuck happens!” the bald cop barks at me.

“But–but,” I turn to my new cellmates, incredulous. “you–he just let me in here to piss! My bail’s been paid!”

“Watch them process you all over again,” one guy jokes–says. “They don’t give a shit.”

Fear washes over me. I was locked in this room six hours ago–the first in a series of seemingly arbitrary cages the pigs herd you through at the Erie County Holding Center. I’d been bussed here with eleven other dudes from the courthouse across the street, handcuffed to a black kid who looked like he was about fourteen. But I can never tell how old black people are. Or how tall they are. I find professional basketball incredibly confusing. (more…)


Murphy’s Law XII

May 31st, 2012 by

The Verdict

We bump into four of the six jurors in the lobby of the courthouse. “So why’d you do it?” asks Fallon.

“We just couldn’t get over how that one guy was ‘disgusted,’” says the young UB cog sci major.¹ They never considered the NOM rally a “religious service.” They didn’t believe Donna Donovan. They didn’t believe Roland Cercone. They didn’t believe the Mount Olive security guard. And they didn’t believe Swanson. But they did believe Josh Bunting.

“But you don’t know what that guy thought!” Fallon marbled. “Maybe he liked it — he wasn’t here!”

They shrug.

“You know,” I say. “They originally charged me with filming the police — and they changed it, three months later, to obscenity after they found the dildo-phone pic online.”

They shrug.

“And they erased my camera.”

A glimmer of understanding comes over the foreman — a Born Again Skeletor look-a-like — and then he says, “So, you work at CFI, huh? I work near there.” He scowls. Or smiles. There’s literally no way to know.



Murphy's Law XI

May 31st, 2012 by

Closing Arguments, Conspiracy Theories, Hot Dogs & Heart Burn

1:00 PM — Fallon and I are sitting on a bench in downtown Buffalo. It’s an incestuous ghost town. There’s not many people on the streets, but they all seem to know each other. Most of them are wearing some bureaucratic lanyard or another. They’re all stakeholders in this repugnant perversion of justice. I eat a hot dog. (more…)


Murphy's Law X

May 30th, 2012 by

The Case of The Viking, The Post-Op Transsexual, and The Chinese McDonald’s

“May I remind you, Mr. Fallon, that your client is entitled to a speedy trial.”
-Judge Susan M. Eagan

“A ‘speedy trial’ means he was supposed to be entitled to a trial soon after being falsely accused! It doesn’t mean we should rush through this thing like it’s a goddamn Chinese McDonald’s!”
-Attorney Paul Fallon

Susan Eagan is a political appointee who breezed into incumbency. She knows who she works for. And she doesn’t know much else. She’s the former president of a Christian homeschooling association, for example. Before the jury comes out, she brings the lawyers back to her chambers to scold Fallon for rolling his eyes at her. That was his highly disciplined response to being told not to question witnesses so thoroughly. (more…)


Murphy's Law IX

May 25th, 2012 by

May His Noodly Appendage Land You in Jail (and other tragedies)

PREFACE: The following was written after midnight on Wednesday May 23, but I failed to post it…it gets a little crazy and spiteful, as you’ll see. Then I fell a few days behind in reporting the latest news because of family obligations. While I already know the ultimate outcome, I’m going to post this, and the final two installments of “Murphy’s Law” in chronological order. Due to no one giving a shit (thanks for coming to support me in court, assholes), I have a monopoly on this news, so deal with it. And if you do know the verdict, as a few of you out there do, I’d please ask you to refrain from mentioning it on social media or in the comments. Sorry, but I want people to read these essays, you know? Thanks.


WEDNESDAY, MAY 23, 2012, THE YEAR OF OUR LORD — So Judge Eagan says that if I’m sworn in over a can of spaghetti I’ll go to jail for contempt of court. Only real fake religions are allowed. That’s the bad news. The good news is that…there’s no good news. (more…)


Murphy's Law VIII

May 21st, 2012 by

Cop lies under oath, though says she arrested me for legal activities, and claims she thought our camera might have been a gun. Seriously. A gun!

“The straw that broke the camel’s back was that he called us ‘assholes.’”
-Arresting officer Donna Donovan

“Is that illegal?”
-My lawyer, Paul Fallon

-Donovan (more…)


Murphy's Law VII: Jury Selection and Shit-Water

May 16th, 2012 by

Jury selection is like playing poker for your freedom. And before I get into all that, I should say hello to the jurors. Hello! The judge explicitly told you not to visit The BEAST, so I presume that’s exactly what most of you are going to do. It’s kind of like that time my buddy told me never to Google “Goatse”. I also do not recommend that. But you’re probably curious about that now, too, so…I told you! Anyway, back to the matter at hand. I’m going to pretend like you fine, and very reasonable, people are not reading this. Otherwise, I’m going to keep talking about how I live with and care for my disabled mother. It’s true. I’m a good person. I prepare all her meals, do all the household chores, and have generally sacrificed my well-being for hers. No shit. I also used to roam the streets of Buffalo at night handing out sandwiches to homeless people. Sometimes I even let them crash at my place. And let’s not forget that time I saved a kitten from certain death. I’ll stop now. Sorry. See how polite I am! Seriously, though, I’m done…but, by the way, you looked amazing today! Have you been working out? It shows!



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