Meditations on Mayhem

So, yesterday I had to show at the courthouse in bustling, scenic downtown Conroe for an abortive attempt at jury duty. Apparently, everybody knew there was not going to be court yesterday except for the dullard who sent all us prospective jurors an email on Saturday. A a result, I basically got a free day off work. Both woo and hoo.

Anyhow, the court is picky about which items you can bring into the building with you. I figured the .45, the pocket knife, and the big multitool were no-gos. I forgot about the smaller implements on my keychain.

The tiny Leatherman that lives on my keychain was unacceptable. I had to walk back to the truck and drop it in the glove box.

On the other hand, (clockwise from left), an Atwood Prybaby, a County Comm Peanut, a Craftsman 4 way screwdriver, and a P-38 were all admitted with no comments or complaints.

Now, I'm not doing anything but making idle speculation here. If I were inclined to commit some form of property damage or injury to personnel during my time in the building, I don't see what the point was. I can inflict as much, if not more, damage on someone with the Prybaby as I can with the Squirt, and I don't need to open it up. Between the three tools and the lighter, I figure there's all the fun you deserve to have in a secured area. I can disassemble just about anything that doesn't require a wrench, and then set the joint on fire.

I am constantly baffled and amazed at the feeble minded nonsense that passes for security in this country. I'm also a tad disgruntled that the county asked me to show up, and then made me empty my pockets of almost everything that might be useful in an emergency. If I'm to be trusted with deciding the fate of my fellow citizens, why won't you trust me with a pocket knife?