Congratulations on Establishing New Defensible Grounds for Homicide!

Your latest client is a curious case. He killed his boss a few days ago in what could be considered a moment of rage following his unfair termination and was escorted out of his office by a cheering throng of supportive co-workers. He entered police custody without any sort of struggle and has been nothing but cooperative since his arrest. He is clearly sane, articulate, well educated, and generally not prone to violent outbursts.

You’ll get up in front of the judge and do your all to get his sentence down, citing his lack of violent behavior in the past, his full cooperation and his attempt to control violence, but the judge won’t want to hear about anything from you. He’ll just get the kid on the stand and talk to him.

The two will converse for several hours in front of a crowded courtroom, with occasional breaks where the young man’s co-workers come forward to defend his actions by describing how big of a douche their boss was. One woman will even come up and, tearfully, announce that she was once drugged and raped at an office event by her superior and that she did not come out publicly due to threats of termination. After this long, forum style discussion he’ll tell Jeremy to return to his seat at your bench and announce his decision.

“Time served,” he’ll mumble, then shuffle back off to his chambers.

In the write-up of the decision he’ll explain that he believes that the removal of certain excessively douchey people from our general populace is actually a public service, and that Jeremy was performing just such a service in a responsible, brave and honorable fashion. If anything he deserves some sort of reward, but the best our system can do for such a man is simply to let him walk free among the people he has given hope to.

You’ll scratch your head, collect your fee from the state and enjoy the business that being a part of one of the strangest legal precedents in recent history (just behind the dog one) brings with it.

Congratulations on Establishing New Defensible Grounds for Homicide!

Congratulations on Your Incredibly Popular Office Shooting!

You were fired yesterday by your tremendous prick of a boss for the dumbest fucking reason imaginable. Normally you’re level enough that you would just wait for your unemployment to come through and enjoy a nice “fuck you” vacation, but this is coming at a bad time. You’ve just had your novel rejected by a publisher a few days ago, your roommate decided to convert to Christianity and won’t shut up about it, and the grocery store will be out of normal sized Cheez-Its today, so you’ll have to buy those ridiculously huge ones instead.

All of these factors will combine to lead you to your decision to tromp into work with a load pistol and take out some of that good old fashioned American aggression on the man who made your life a living hell for so long.

You’ll strut into the office right past the sleeping security guards outside, a pistol with the safety on carefully tucked into your waistband. You’ll stalk the cubicles, looking for the stupid fucker who, shocker, will be at his desk updating his Facebook profile when you find him.

You’ll stand behind him for a while, just waiting for him to turn and notice you, reading over his shoulder, but he’ll never even notice. Not until you lean over his shoulder, press the gun to the base of his skull and start pointing out the various spelling errors in his post.

His eyes will go wide when he realizes what it is pressing into the back of his head, and tears will start to well in his eyes. Before you’ve even gotten to his paragraph format descriptions you’ll smell something a lot like pee and you’ll hear him whimper a little. Just before he starts weeping openly you’ll pull the trigger, splattering what used to be his skull all over his corner window, and on to a good portion of his fifteen inch monitor and your face for good measure.

Then you’ll stroll out of his cube to universal accolade as your former co-workers cheer you on. By the time you get to the elevator they’ll have you up on their shoulders, chanting your name like you just hit a home run in office softball. And when they hand you over the cops at your request (to the police’s bafflement) they’ll just start booing.

Even as they load you into the car the cops will look at you like you’re some sort of mystery, a god of sorts, a man who, if not for their diligence and your honesty, could have gotten away with murder.

Congratulations on Your Incredibly Popular Office Shooting!

Congratulations Horsefucker!

You’ve been trying to shake that nickname for years, but its been chasing you. You’ve left your home, your family, your best friend and the woman you love all to escape from that god damn nickname.

We’d go into how you got it but... Well, that’s a little private, and to be honest you know it pretty well. After all, you’re you. And most of the state of Washington knows it too.

But the population of Washington isn’t nearly as familiar with your efforts to lose the name. They’ve varied vastly, from writing an unsuccessful novel to murdering a street gang with a ball peen hammer. None of them have worked though.

Tomorrow you’re going to engage in your most ambitious attempt yet. You’re going to kidnap the King of Spain.

Juan Carlos is a sweet old dude, but you’ve got a few issues with him. For example his total disrespect for Hugo Chavez and his generally abrasive public manner. His support of shadowy, exploitative private businesses in South America doesn’t help either and, while the Wikipedia entry you used to research your job doesn’t say for sure one way or the other you’re almost positive that he supported the war in Iraq.

So you’re going to try and kidnap him. We won’t give away the how, when and wheres of it. That would make the Spanish Secret Service’s job way too easy. But we are going to let you know that its going to go horribly wrong.

Your gun will backfire after your pants are caught on a particularly treacherous fence and you break your leg falling around seven feet. Then Juan Carlos will spend fifteen minutes waiting with the ambulance for you while his sexy assistant performs basic first aid for you. You will become awkwardly aroused and she’ll see your incredibly bent penis.

Worst of all, though, you’ll still be best known for fucking that horse. The title “that horsefucker” will just be amended now to “that horsefucker who totally botched kidnapping the King of Spain and blew off his own hand before he embarrassed himself in front of that hot Spanish chick.”

On the upside the King of Spain needs a PR boost badly so he’ll keep you around to show he’s got a softer side. Granted, he’ll mostly be using you as a human footstool, but he’ll never refer to you as a horsefucker at public functions. Just in private, and in all of his memos.

Anyhow, congratulations horsefucker. And remember, bad as life is right now, it could be and likely will be much much worse in the future.