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I USED TO be a closet bad citizen. Although I had no particular bone to pick with the judicial system, I chronically shirked jury duty - scheduling a business trip each time my summons appeared in the mail. Two years ago, however, faced with the threat of being dragged to the courthouse by federal marshals, I reluctantly fulfilled my civic obligation.
It was worse than I had expected. While I was being questioned to evaluate my suitability as a juror in a criminal trial involving drugs, I stole a glance at the defendant - a giant man with gold front teeth. He so terrified me that I collapsed snorting and wheezing in an asthma attack. Afraid I might die on him, the judge excused me from criminal court.
Civil court was no better. I was impaneled for a case involving a car that had allegedly burst into flames because of the defendant's negligence. After I revealed that my car had once caught fire in similar fashion, the defense attorney permitted me to remain on the jury. Appalled, I blurted, "Sir, not only am I prejudiced, but I hate your necktie. I could never trust anyone wearing anything that ugly." He finally but grudgingly let me off.