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THE LAW IS A ASS for 07/04/2000
DOCKET ENTRY
"The Law is a Ass" Installment #50
Originally written as installment #40 and published in Comics Buyer's Guide issue #572, November 2, 1984 issue
My life just got much easier!
When I started writing "The Law is a Ass" in 1983, I had an IBM Selectric typewriter. A nice instrument. But a computer was nicer. As of this column, I started writing my columns with my first computer, a TSR portable computer. "Portable" being something of a relative term. This was a full-sized computer--the size of a small country--with a handle. I think I took it on one trip with me and decided that wasn't something I'd be repeating.
Anyway, that made my life easier back then. How does it make my life easier now? Well, it means I now have WordPerfect file copies of my columns from now on. Before, I was scanning the hard copies of my old columns and putting in hours or more per column reformatting the OCR errors and turning them from something that looked like Klingon into a printable and readable form. Not to mention revising the columns to bring them up-to-date and fixing all those jokes that, after fourteen years, don't work--and probably didn't really work fourteen years ago.
Now I can call the column into an already printable and readable form. All I have to do is revise them so that they read better. It will same me immeasurable time. Why, I might be able to start getting my Tuesday columns into Justin sometime before 11:59 on Monday.
Naw!
******
"The Law is a Ass"
Installment #50
by
Bob Ingersoll
I was at my desk playing with my new toy, a brand new home computer with a word processing program. Now, I knew that I should be able to write my columns faster, so that I wouldn't disappoint my legion of fan. (You mean I have more than one? Ma, break out the bubbly!)
Actually I know I won't write columns faster. Word processing makes revising and editing so simple, that I spend most of my time tinkering around with columns--hmmm, I wonder whether nincompoop would sound funnier than moron there--which I would have considered finished, if I didn't have the word processor. I'll have to watch that, or I won't ever finish another thing I write.
Anyway, I was playing around with the computer, trying to figure out how to turn the turkey thing on, when Tempest BAMFed into my office.
Tempest. You know, Christopher Champion from Atari Force? The kid, who can jaunt around the Multiverse at will? Well, he BAMFed into my office.
I was surprised. "Chris, how the hell can you be in my office in 1984, when you're from the future?" I thought it was a logical question.
"Because the 'The Law Is a Ass' Multiverse is different from the other Multiverses. Time, space, even differing publishers don't create impassible boundaries for you. Anyone from any time and any place and any comic book company can visit you in your column. I thought you knew that, what with you making up the rules and all."
"Well, if that's the case, Chris, I think you'd better leave and come in again. This time without the "BAMF." I've already done several columns on trademark and copyright infringement, so I don't think my readers want to see me do a column, where I have to represent you against Nightcrawler.
#
I was at my desk cursing my new computer, when Tempest teleported into my office. "What can I do for you, Chris?" I asked.
"Well, I'm standing trial for high treason in Atari Force # 12, and I was just wondering if my trial was fair."
"What do you think is wrong with it?"
"They've got me handcuffed and so sedated, that I can't even remember what one plus one equals."
"I don't think you were that sedated, Chris. I don't think you ever knew what one plus one equals. Anyway, you were coherent enough that you could curse the court."
"Exactly my point. If I weren't sedated, do you think I'd do something so suicidal at the beginning of my trial?"
"I don't know. You always struck me as the typical comic-book hothead."
"Well, I wouldn't. That's my problem. I'm all tied up and sedated. How am I supposed to defend myself, if I don't even know what's going on?"
"That's a good question, Chris. I wish I had a good answer."
"Huh?"
"Well, it's not as simple, as you think. The Constitution guarantees that all persons be able to confront the witnesses against them at a trial. Courts have held that means the defendant must be physically present at all important proceedings of the trial, so that he can assist in his defense. Otherwise there is no confrontation. After all, how can you confront, if you're not even there?
"Unfortunately, when the defendant persists in disrupting the proceedings, he can be removed from the proceedings or even bound and gagged, as in the infamous "Chicago Seven" trial. The court is forced to balance the interests of the state to bring the defendant to trial against the defendant's interest in confrontation.
"Usually the defendant's interests are paramount. However, in the situation where the defendant uses his presence to disrupt the trial and make it impossible for the trial to continue, then the state's interest in bringing the defendant to trial takes precedence over the defendant's confrontation right.
"Basically, the court feels that as the defendant's wilful disruptions jeopardize the trial, he, not the state, should be the one punished by losing in the balance of rights assessment."
"But I wasn't being disruptive, Mr. Ingersoll."
"Telling the court to go to hell, then starting a fight in the middle of the courtroom isn't 'being disruptive?' I'd hate to see your frat parties"
"That was just a misunderstanding. I'll be fine, if they tried it again. Honest."
"Well, they have another problem, Chris."
"What?"
"You can teleport out of the courtroom. How are they supposed to try you, when you've teleported away? They have to keep you under sedation."
"But what about my right to constipation?"
"That's confrontation. And the court would have to balance that right against the state's right to bring you to trial and to guarantee that you were present during the trial. I'm not sure how the court would decide that question. But I suspect it would come down on the side of the state."
"But you're not sure?"
"I'm not sure."
"Can't you check some lawbook and find out?"
I pulled down my copy of The Law Is a Ass Multiversal Constitutional Law and did some quick research. When I was finished, I had some more bad news for young Mr. Champion.
"Chris, your stories take place in the future, don't they?"
"Yes."
"And Atari Station orbits around New Earth, a colony world, which isn't even in the same dimension as Earth. Correct?"
"Yes."
"Chris, I'm afraid that when they colonized New Earth, they didn't even adopt the Constitution as the standard for government. You don't have any constitutional rights at trial. In fact, New Earth didn't even adopt trial by jury. It adopted trial by combat."
"'Trial by combat' what's that?"
"An ancient form of trial in which the litigants actually fought each other physically. It was thought that God would know which litigant's side was just and help him to victory. So the victor of the fight became the winner of the trial."
"But I can't fight the entire New Earth government in combat."
"New Earth realized that. Apparently, they provided for this by appointing, you should excuse the expression, a champion. Your trial by combat is against this representative of the government."
"So who is the government's champion?"
"Well, you know how Mike Baron is scheduled to write Atari Force now? He selected the champion. Does the name Norbert Sykes mean anything to you?"
"Norbert Sykes?"
"The Badger."
"Yikes!"
I haven't seen Chris Champion in weeks.
Haven't missed him, either.
#
So, I was mastering my word processor--What do you mean NOT READY ERROR WRITING DEVICE PRN ABORT RETRY IGNORE?!--when my wife called down to me. "Bob, there's a comic-book person up here to see you."
"Tell him I'm busy and can't see him."
"It's a her. And I think you'll want to see her."
"Why?"
"Because you can really see her."
"What?"
"She's not wearing anything except soap bubbles."
Oh great Felecity Smoak!"
She came down. The soap bubbles were evaporating, disappearing faster than the famous Seven Veils. The result was even more revealing.
"Mr. Ingersoll, I understand that you're no longer with the Public Defender office."
"Well, I did quit a few weeks ago to try private practice. I didn't like it and got my old job back."
"Oh dear, and I was so hoping you'd represent me in my class action suit against Firestorm."
"That's funny. When I was trying private practice, I turned Firestorm down. But if you had come to me then, I'd have turned you down also."
A bubble near Felicity's left thigh disappeared.
"Why, Mr. Ingersoll?"
"Because I don't like either you or Firestorm. He's a hothead who doesn't even realize that turning the top of the World Trade Center into a giant lodestone would wipe out every computer in the building, so should have found another way to defeat a couple of incompetents like Stratos and Bazooka Joan.
"Exactly my point. That's why I want to sue the guy."
"Well, you're no better. When Firestorm did his damage, how did you react? You came out screaming about having him arrested and suing him." Two more bubbles evaporated away. "Didn't you ever hear, 'You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar?' "
"Meaning?"
"Meaning for all his faults, Firestorm is a human Philosopher's Stone. He can turn dross into gold. He can even do it with U.S. 1." More bubbles vanished.
"What was your problem? You ran a software company and the magnetism of the lodestone roof demagnetized all your floppy disks. So you had no more programs to sell to your suppliers, who went elsewhere. Result: your company went bankrupt." Felicity's bubbles were deserting her faster than her company's assets had gone.
"If you had been nice to Firestorm, he could have given you a rooftop made of gold. You could have paid off all your customers for their damages, when you couldn't deliver them their software. Then you could have used the rest of the money to redevelop your stupid programs. You wouldn't have had to declare bankruptcy.
"If you had been really nice, Firestorm could probably have gotten Superman or Flash to rewrite all your software at super speed, and you wouldn't even have missed a work day. Why do you think no one else in the World Trade Center went bankrupt? They were nice and the JLA helped them."
At this point Felicity only had three bubbles left on her. Each was positioned exactly where it had to be for maximum coverage.
"In addition, you have this ridiculous notion that you can file a class action suit against Firestorm, because you went bankrupt. A class action suit is a suit with several plaintiffs, usually several dozen or more, who have all been damaged by the same act or person. In that way the courts aren't bogged down by several dozen law suits all trying the exact same facts.
I'm afraid you can't file a class action suit, because you went bankrupt. The other party plaintiffs in the suit weren't hurt by your bankruptcy. They don't even care about your bankruptcy. If you want vindication for your personal bankruptcy, you'll have to file individually.
"I will give you one piece of advice, however. If you do sue Firestorm, you should add libel to your cause of action."
"Why?"
"Because in a printed comic book he said you were wearing one hundred per cent polyester clothes. No business lady in your position would be caught dead wearing anything less than a wool/poly blend. And no intelligent woman would wear pure polyester undergarments. He demeaned your stature as a woman and as a business executive. Not to mention your intelligence and taste.
"Incidentally, when you see Mindboggler again, apologize to her for me.
"Why?"
"I called her Mind Bender in a column a few weeks back. Mindboggler may be a turkey, but even turkeys deserve to be called by the right name."
The last three bubbles burst.
Instantly, miraculously even, Felicity's hair-- which had been only shoulder length before-- moved to cover her up very strategically. It stuck to her tighter than the IRS to my paycheck.
"I think that about 'covers' our business, Ms. Smoak."
She threw my computer's operating manual at me.
As she ran up the stairs from my basement office, I called to my wife, "Becky, could you give Ms. Smoak an old rain coat or something. People will think we're auditioning for the sequel to Splash ."
I haven't seen Felicity Smoak in weeks either.
Haven't missed her, either.
#
After I conquered my computer, I started to write my first column on it. Please, computer, you can't crash on me now. I haven't fin...
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