2003-04-28 � Fellatio, Judge

Judge Selma stuck her head out of her office and rolled her eyes dramatically. She took a deep drag on her ciggie and exhaled with an exasperated flourish. "I'm going to need your help on this one," she sighed. She raised her arms and looked up as she shook her fists. "Why are people so fucking stupid?"

The Princess and I exchanged worried glances. "Which people, Judge?" I asked.

She took another toke of nicotine and gestured for us to follow her. "Come into my office. Let me tell you about this case."

I grabbed my blue Uni-ball Gel Grip and a steno pad as I followed her into the office. The Princess was on my heels. She noticed I was prepared to take notes and got a sort of panicky look on her face. "Just a sec, Judge! I gotta get a pen or something! I just like need a pen so I can totally take notes or something! One more sec, ok? Ok."

The Judge and I exchanged knowing glances while the Princess ran back to her desk as fast as her flip flop style spring sandals would permit. The Judge put her cigarette in the ash tray and took a sip of coffee from a mug bearing the likeness of Fonzie on one side and the slogan "SIT ON IT!" on the other. She lit a second cigarette, the first one seemingly forgotten, and puffed deeply before placing it along side the other lit smoke in the ash tray.

"Sorry, Judge!" the Princess squealed. "I'm ready now."

The Judge peered at the Princess down the bridge of her nose. She lingered on the silence before saying, "Oh, I'm sure," in response.

She gradually shifted her attention to the large pile of papers on her desk. "I'm writing an opinion," she began, "in a rather remarkable sexual harassment case. It seems a well known car lot has fostered a hostile working environment toward its female sales associates. They subjected the plaintiff to the basest, most vile string of vulgarities I can imagine, which presents a problem with my facts section."

A word on the construction of a legal opinion. A judge's opinion is a very stylized piece of writing. There are five sections essential to any legal opinion. First, the introduction, which describes the procedural posture of the case and identifies the attorneys involved. Next comes the findings of fact, in which the court states exactly what it believes happened, resolving contradictory accounts in favor of the party found most credible at trial. Third is the statement of the law, which lays out the rules under which the case is being decided and directly cites the authority governing the dispute. Fourth, the legal analysis which takes the facts and applies the law to them. Lastly, the decision, sometimes called the holding, in which the court finally decides the matter and issues any orders necessary. These five sections are universal characteristics common to legal opinions world wide.

It is vital that the statement of facts be accurate because a misstated fact could cause a faulty analysis which would result in an erroneous outcome. When courts are attacked, especially here in the United States, as being political it is almost always because the court has adopted a version of the facts in a dispute that lead the court to a conclusion contrary to the views of the attacker. If you've never read an opinion, you really ought to trudge through one just for your own personal edification. The linked example is a short opinion of a unanimous U.S. Supreme Court in which all five sections are easily identifiable. It begins about half way down the page after the second time the title of the case appears.

Judge Selma prides herself on her opinions and great care is afforded even the simplest of them. She was obviously undecided about how to handle this particular matter.

"Well, what's the hang up, Judge?" I asked.

"I've got to get the facts in here, but I'm not sure how to do it without sullying my opinion. I need you guys to help me communicate the flavor of these exchanges without the odiousness."

The Princess and I exchanged concerned looks. "I'm not sure I follow you, Judge," I explained.

"Ok. Here's an example. They would say things like 'all you have to do is smile at her and her twat gets so wet she sticks to the vinal chairs. SHHHHLLLLLLIP SHHHHHLLLLLLIP SHHHHHHLLLLLLLIP!'"

The Princess and I sat in stunned silence. Ellen could be heard cackling from her desk. I was biting the inside of my cheeks to keep from laughing. The Judge was taking this very seriously, but in order to create the sound effects, she'd dropped her jaw, hollowed out her cheeks and sucked in about as much air as her tar laden lungs could manage, which caused her shoulders to shrug and her glasses to slip down her nose a bit further with every head bob.

"How the Hell am I going to get all of that into my opinion without putting all of that in my opinion?" she moaned.

"Well," I began, "I see the problem." I nodded my head a little in commiseration with her predicament.

"Here's another one," she said. "When she made her sales quotas the men would all grab brooms and chase her around the dealership poking at her vagina telling her to get her pussy lubed up because she'd earned a broom-fuck. A broom-fuck! I can't use words like that."

"Wait," the Princess added, "maybe you could say 'broom-love' instead of broom-eff."

The Judge looked at her a little incredulously. "Get your pussy lubed up; you've earned broom-love?"

"Or maybe you can just imply the broom part," I said. "You could get all clinical and say something like 'they chased her around the dealership threatening to insert the business end of cleaning supplies in her most tender region as reward for her fine work.'"

"OOOHHH!" cooed the Princess. "That's good!"

I was on a roll. "Yeah, and how about this. 'The male sales associates told her repeatedly that they believed they could cause her to lose control of her body's sexual responses if they smiled at her, effectively affixing her to her seat. Then they made hurtful suction sounds to illustrate their point.'"

The Judge was holding her head in her hands.

"Give me another one, Judge," I shamelessly requested.

The Judge thought it over and lit a third cigarette. She put it in the ashtray next to the other two. She leafed through a few pages until she came to an exhibit, which she tossed to me. "Here's a handout from a mandatory sales training seminar. If you turn to page five, you'll see a very interesting point being made. It seems the sales associates were taught that there are more and more single women making purchasing decisions and it was their job to make those sales especially, because 'they may carry titles like head of household, but they're really just a bunch of stupid fucking bitches.'

"Then all the sales associates, women included, were compelled to sing the following song to the tune of Jingle Bells:

"Our car lot/
Lives for twat/
Walking through our door./
A big hairdo/
Will make us spew/
We're pimps and they're our whores.

"What can you do with that?" The judge folded her arms and sat back in her chair.

I gave it a good deal of thought before I finally answered her. "Well, we've got to change the song, I guess."

The Judge lit another cigarette. "Obviously," she said.

"Maybe it should start there once was a man from Nantucket."

The Judge narrowed her gaze. "You're really not helping." She sent us back to our desks thanking us for our input.

A few minutes later she poked her head out and asked, "what is another word for blow job?"

"Smoke the sausage? A hummer?"

"Brian!" she snapped. "No, that's not what I mean. When you, you know, do it to a girl, or maybe you don't know do you. Well, let's see. When a girl receives oral...pleasure it's called cunnilingus..." She waved her arms like we were playing The New Password and cunnilingus was the perfect clue.

In unison, the Princess and I said, "fellatio, Judge," which caused her to blush a little as she disappeared back into her office.

I really can't wait to read that opinion.

Posted at 4:44 p.m.

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