Truth, justice and weirdness

It seems like only yesterday that I was lamenting the sadly mundane state of S’lano County’s day-to-day existence.

“Where has all the weirdness gone?” I asked plaintively time and again, only to be met with stony stares and silence.

Happily, the question was answered for me not long ago when I was transferred to the newspaper’s court beat.

Where had all the weirdness gone?

To the Hall of Justice, I soon discovered…

My opinion of the county’s overall weirdness level began improving almost immediately as I prepared to be swept away on a magic carpet ride through the county’s criminal justice system.

Standing patiently in line at the security checkpoint waiting to be screened by the Hall of Justice metal detector, I was met by a harbinger of weirdness-to-come that was not to be ignored.

The woman in front of me turned, poked her index finger repeatedly into my chest and announced in no uncertain terms “It ain’t going to do any good taking my shoes off for that thing. My feet set it off every time. It’s my feet, not my shoes. You’re gonna have to cut my feet off this time! Do what you’ve got to do! Go ahead, saw ’em right off! I’m going to jail anyway!”

Uh-huh.

“I hope that’s not your attorney, man…” commented a cheerful passer-by who’d overheard part of the conversation.

Yes, things were definitely looking up for the relative weirdness level in good ol’ downtown Fairfield.

And it only got better a short time later when I stepped gingerly out of Judge Kinnicutt’s courtroom to be met by an imposing fellow who seemed to be launching a one-man campaign against fly larvae.

“Maggots!” he proclaimed in thunderous breathlessness.

“Maggots! They’re allllll maggots! The Lord shall smite them and smite them again and again! Maaaaaaggots!” (Repeat 15 times without taking a breath to get the full impact of this encounter…)

A kindly court bailiff subsequently told me not to take the maggot man’s diatribe personally.

“He was down in from of Judge Harrison’s courtroom last week – really gets around this time of year,” the bailiff explained.

Better and better…

Then, just a few days ago, one man proudly marching through the Hall of Justice really turned up the excitement.

Rounding a corner, the musical fellow burst into a full-throated rendition of “My Boyfriend’s Back.”

For you younger readers, “My Boyfriend’s Back” was a girl group rock ballad from the mid-60s that told the story of a young woman done wrong by a teenage cad and the inevitable havoc her testosterone-fueled boyfriend would wreak upon the aforementioned cad when the boyfriend got back:

“My boyfriend’s back,

He’s gonna save my reputation!

Hey-la, hey-la

My boyfriend’s back!

If I were youI’d take a permanent vacation!”

No, it just doesn’t get any weirder than that, amigos…

Originally published November 02, 2003

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