It seems that some people keep these creatures as pets. Those people are now paying the price. According to various news sources, here's an example, pet prairie dogs are spreading something called AFRICAN MONKEYPOX! to humans in Wisconsin, Illinois, and Indiana. I swear to God.

Combine AFRICAN MONKEYPOX! with SARS and we're talking horseman of the apocalypse. I'm serious. End times, people.

This is the first time AFRICAN MONKEYPOX! has been seen in the Western Hemisphere.

AFRICAN MONKEYPOX! has symptoms similar to smallpox, but less deadly. So, basically, you survive the painful welts, and you get to enjoy the horrific scarring the welts leave behind for the rest of your life.

Yay rodents! Hoorah!

~~~~~~

The current court term has ended. Last Friday Judge Selma hosted an end of term party at her lake house for the judges that sat with her this term and their staffs. I'd seen her palatial estate in town, but the lake house was simply beautiful. It's situated on the point of an island in the middle of a lake, four stories, 6 decks, a hot tub, a swimming pool with waterfall, a second waterfall which feeds a stream that meanders down a well marked bed all the way back to the lake, gazebos (that's right plural), winding cobblestone paths through the garden sitting areas, an award winning rose garden, a swing attached to a tree limb more than three stories above, a boat house, a green house, a guest house, a pool house, a fishing pier, and a castle turret complete with spiral staircase.

I'm told the house does not have a name, so I spent a great deal of time at the party trying to choose just the perfect name. I finally decided that the estate should henceforth be known only as Loquela Sine Die, which is a legal term in Latin meaning the indefinite postponement of action. Judge Selma and her husband indulged me on this point, but they are not sold. I think they just need to get used to the idea.

Regardless, before Loquela Sine Die, I didn't know New Jersey could be beautiful.

Of course, it's not in any way public beauty. The entire lake is surrounded by an enormous wall which is cleverly camouflaged so as not to betray it's presence. In order to gain access to the lake, one must pass through a phalanx of armed guards who operate a complicated remote controlled gate mechanism and busily whisper into radio microphones clipped to their shoulders. When we expressed surprise at being waved through so easily, Judge Selma said, "well I went down there this morning and I told them I was having a party."

"Oh, you did?" Ellen said. "That was thinking ahead."

"Of course I did. And I said to them, 'now there is a black man coming. He's a Justice of the state Supreme Court. You better let him through!' Can you imagine if I hadn't?" The judge puffed deeply on her smoke, lost in a daydream of unrealized embarrassments. She shuddered and asked "can you imagine?" again under her breath.

The party was lively and drowning in food. I brought stuffed grape leaves and a key lime and fresh dill humus I'd whipped up. It was nothing. Really.

A couple of highlights:

Highlight the First: The Hose

The grill was heated, the wieners were blistering and ready for buns when Judge Selma noted a distinct lack of seating. I was one deck down from the main deck with my feet in the hot tub, chatting with those who ventured by. Judge Selma appeared over the railing, cigarette dangling from her lips, eyes searching wildly for her chamber's midget.

"Oh, Brian," she called. "There's some schlepping to do."

I should note that I'm the certified schlepper in our chambers. It has come to me, despite my diminutive stature, for being the only boy.

I grabbed another clerk and, following the judge's instructions, located an additional table for the main deck. We lugged it up the stairs and put it in place. "Judge," I said, "we need a rag to clean the table up a bit." Without batting an eye, Judge Selma grabbed a hose and turned it on the table spraying it full force. She scrunched her lips over to the side so her cigarette wouldn't get wet, but those of us on the other side of the table (specifically me, another clerk, the Justice and his secretary) took the brunt of the substantial runoff.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake!" said the judge. "Brian, will you get a paper towel and dry that table off?"

Highlight the Second: The Boat

At some point, it was decided that Judge Selma would give speedboat rides to the willing. I was game, naturally, but those who had been to the lake house before were strangely reluctant.

Conjure, for a moment, the last time you saw a tiny grey haired woman behind the wheel of a car clearly designed for larger people. Did she peer through the steering wheel instead of over it? Did she sit on her leg or partially stand to give herself more height? Did she endanger the lives of children and pets too low to the ground to be seen from her vantage? Did she operate the vehicle with a seemingly complete disregard for the safety and property of others?

Now, dangle a ciggie from her lip and imagine her at the helm of a speedboat.

I'll give you a moment with that one.

I was sitting in the open sun on the bough as we backed slowly out of the boat house. Once clear, Judge Selma opened the throttle up and we were off. The nose of the boat went nearly vertical as the powerful engine pushed us along the water's surface like a skipped stone. I held onto the side to keep from falling back into the other boat goers. I turned and looked behind me at the judge's position at the helm. I could see only wisps of her hair fluttering above the dashboard in the gale force winds until she flicked a cast off butt into the air. It vanished in the distance as it was swept up in our wake.

Ellen was sitting across the aisle from me. I heard her yelling, so I turned around front. Ahead was the post of a rapidly approaching bridge. I screamed like a woman. "BRIDGE BRIDGE BRIDGE! THERE'S A GODDAMN BRIDGE UP AHEAD! JUDGE! JUDGE! JUDGE! BRIDGE! LOOK OUT FOR THE BRIDGE!"

Judge Selma stood up on the driver's seat and peered over the steering wheel. "Oh, for heaven's sake!" she exclaimed. Then she banked the boat such that if it had been an SUV we'd have rolled. Water sprayed in an impressive arc as she took the boat around about 345 degrees. When she was realigned with the bridge, she took another shot at clearing it, this time from a slightly less aggressive angle.

It was still a little close for my taste. The passengers in the back were at a distinct disadvantage (or advantage depending on your perspective) in that they could not see where we were headed. Judge Recluse stuck his hand out to touch the impressive wall of water the little boat was kicking up. I winced as his fingertips grazed the bridge post when we flew past.

"Do you see them?" I heard the Judge yell. "Do you see them?"

"What? Do I see what?"

"The baby swans," she replied.

Up ahead there was a mother swan teaching her hatchlings to swim. She turned and saw us barreling straight for her and instantly panicked. She trumpeted and swam around to block her offspring from impending doom. Once she was between her babies and us, she stretched out her wings to obscure our view of them. She continued making horrible warning sounds at us.

The judge banked the boat again and cut the throttle. The nose of the boat came down and we glided over near the birds. This enraged the mother swan, who set out to attack us. She swam right up to the boat, wings flailing, caterwauling, and pecking at anything that moved.

"Get us out of here, Judge!" I implored. "She's out for blood!"

The judge was oblivious to the mother swan. "Aren't they darling? That ugly duckling story is so true, isn't it? When they're babies like that they're very unusual looking, aren't they?"

Ellen took a whack on the shoulder and the mother swan nipped at her sweater. I tried to distract the bird, but it wasn't having it. It had seized on Ellen and wouldn't be deterred. Ellen, a consummate animal lover, backed away as best as she could, but was plainly unnerved by the noisy attack. Judge Recluse found an oar which he used to sort of push the swan away a bit, but that only served to further enrage the beast.

When we finally were underway again I looked back and the swan was still screaming at us, still chasing us, though it had no hope of catching us at the judge's preferred speed of mach two.

Later, back on shore, Judge Selma was heard to remark, "yes, swans can be so mean."

Posted at 1:36 p.m.

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