Next: Judge Crackhead tells Candi to pay her bills

So I was watching TV the other day - well, actually, I just had it on while I was doing like three other things because I'm ADD and that's sort of how it goes. A promo came on for some other show and this really serious guy, in his deep, worried announcer voice, says something to the effect of "Mrs. Smith struggles - her Yorkie is ill. Next: the fight for Yappy." I had no idea what to do with the fact that someone's idea of journalism is to chronicle the puking of a yippy lap dog, and y'all, I still don't. I can say I was so discombobulated that I immediately turned the fucking idiot box off after that and broke out some Joni Mitchell records. Yes, records. But back to TV: what does this say, that a sick dog is journalism, and by the way, why haven't any of them come over when one of my cats was sick? "Lesbian law student struggles - one-eyed cat loses another tooth and apparently, has worms. Next: the fight to feed Stella." Stupid dog.

Perhaps we just have too many channels and it's getting that hard to find something to put on them. The result is that we have shitting dogs on camera and, of course, a plethora of court TV shows with semi literate drama queens being yelled at by judges with personality disorders because they used up all of their roomate's hairspray and then moved out without paying the cable bill. The result is that us upcoming lawyers have to contend with a mass of citizens who think they know something about the law or how courtroom drama plays out from watching Law & Order after Judge Crackhead. Yes, Jack McCoy probably would have gotten up from behind his table and made incisive personal comments that left the witness stammering, such that the trial was over after a commercial break where we learned how Tide can magically remove butter stains, but it's not like that in real life, and no, I'm not going to yell at the witness and the judge is not going to stop the trial and dramatically annouce how you have been wronged, thus vindicating your search for justice over the way Candi stole your husband. I mean, damn, y'all, isn't the law hard enough?

But maybe our jobs as lawyers are to provide some sense of perspective - in which case, I should have saved myself the trouble of going to law school and kept my counseling job. It could be worse, though. I could be the host of an afternoon TV show holding the mike for Mrs. Smith while she holds her puking Yorkie on her lap, having to look serious while I'm thinking the fucking dog looks like the result of combing carpet. Well, that's me keeping things in perspective. Until next time, take care of your pets and for God's sake, don't sue Candi on "Judge Crackhead" - I will NOT represent you.