During my time as an executioner, I made sure to be head of the game, by acquiring a unique skull set, from the time I was a guillotiney bopper. I got gallowing reviews which was always excellent noose. Even though I hung my clients out to dry (though sometimes I got them stoned) I never faced the firing line. Of course, the work is no longer shocking; these days the business won’t survive without capital injections, which makes me sigh at night. My goal nonetheless is to fill every day with poisonable experiences.
Chernobyl radiation victims can no longer sue. There is a statute of limb-mutations. The defendants will be held armless.
I eat reams of soup. I should be nominated to the Soup Ream Court!
Bill Cosby’s stockbroker should be punished too. He was a trader to the Cos.
The mime who broke his silence was punished with maxi mum jailtime.
How does trial by media usually work?
A: Immediately after any allegation, there’s a public lynching, followed by a noose conference.
It is treasonous to tamper with unlabeled stool samples. You will be branded a tray turd.
My job is to clean toilets in a courthouse. It’s a lifetime of jury doody.
I went to small claims court over a faulty bag of overly frozen vegetables; the case was heard by a just-ice of the peas.
Don’t fondle anyone inside a courtroom. That’s perv jury.