For the first time in years this week I had to serve on jury duty, which turned out to be nothing. Last time I actually got called to serve and decide the (guilty) fate of a guy appealing his third arrest for drunk driving. This week, I arrived with all the other jurors on Monday, whereupon we were all sent away until Tuesday, as "the logistics needed to be worked out" in one case, involving a witness who was in Arkansas. By Tuesday that case, and all others pending but one, had apparently been settled, as often tends to happen. I didn't get chosen for the one remaining, which looked like a farce in the making: the plaintiff, appearing in chains, was a prisoner who had filed suit on assault charges of some kind against the S.C. Department of Corrections, and had chosen to defend himself. It was so sad to watch this young man, who seemed to have no idea what he was doing, as the judge led him through the strike process. I was kind of glad not to have to take part in the guy's defeat. because I got the deep feeling that even if he had a case he wouldn't be able to present it very convincingly.