Manners, Dress Clothes and Posture

If only you could get away with that. Or make it worth while!
Shit and don't wipe, then do it. 

Here's another platitude the masses try and force you to believe. It's the age old idea that you have to mind your manners and dress the part to get the thumbs up approval from some lackadaisical, dick-hating judge. By default I think my manners have always stayed in check whenever I enter court. I don't have to blurt out obscenities to get my point across although I have and at times do but only after I'm sodomized by some dick head clerk. I never sighed either up until recently. I never shook my head. Hell, I never wore shorts and a t-shirt up until after a custody hearing in May 2013.

This is what a judge may as well be doing when a father is making his case.
In my case the judge was actually doing paperwork for another case. No shit.

Why? Well as I said, I assumed like everybody else that these things were legit and would really help you. They don't. My first time in front of a judge I was already guilty of being a father so the clothes and manners didn't make a difference, even though the enemy was dressed like a fucking barn animal. My back was straight. I kept my hands and elbows off the table. Yes your honor, no your honor. I spoke only when spoken to. I never interrupted. I didn't question. I answered truthfully. And I had a pretty bad cold. Like... a hacking cough and runny nose cold. I felt terrible but I managed to keep my composure until the very end.

I can live out my fantasy through courtroom sketches of Charles Manson. 

So the checklist for courtroom manners was all filled out in my brain. I think one of the first things the judge said was; "What are you chewing on?" [Your mother's fucking box. That's what]. It should have been pretty clear that my throat clearing and coughing gave it away. I answered softly so I didn't irritate my throat and start hacking my lungs up; "A cough drop your honor. Sorry.". She gave me such a condescending look that I'll never forget it. It's like a knife in the throat. By the time that day was over, I regretted swallowing that cough drop and not spitting it in her face. While she was reading out her overly complicated, harebrained,  dick-grinding, heart melting hogwash of a custody order, I didn't listen to most of it. Aside from being completely and utterly devastated about losing custody (and by her unfathomable incompetence), I remember thinking; "Manners... clothes... posture... etc... None of it means shit". I was convinced from that point onward that regardless of what I wore, what I said etc that she looked past it completely.

Next time your in court for matters such as custody or support, go once wearing a John Gotti suit, then for another hearing wear something you'd wear to take a walk around the block. I guarantee that you will not see a difference. Facial expressions say it all... particularly eyes. I'm sure she could tell what I was thinking by the way I was staring at her.

If you're reading this about the time it posted (I have it scheduled), or shortly thereafter, I'm no doubt in court... fighting the fight. Wearing shorts and a Fight Club t-shirt.