F-BOMB IN COURT

Much to the delight of the nation's media, pundits, and assorted talking heads, the prosecutor in his opening statement in the George Zimmerman trial dropped the f-bomb. It was a planned drop, not one of those spur-of-the-moment “oh f***”s. The prosecutor was quoting Mr. Zimmerman in a call the latter had made to the police shortly before slaying another individual, a slaying Mr. Zimmerman claims was self-defense but the state, represented by the prosecutor, asserts was murder.

The prosecutor was not the first lawyer to drop the f-bomb in a trial. Cranky his own self did so almost four decades ago. At the time, Cranky had a little part-time law practice down in Williamsburg, Virginia, where he had grown up and was working on a graduate degree at the Big Green, or The College of W&M. One day a cousin dropped into his office, a young lady he had last seen when she was a child. She was now a young adult and in a bit of a jam.

Seems she had gotten into an argument with another young lady over the affections of a young gentleman, a truck driver as near as Cranky can recall. Some unpleasant words were uttered and there may have been a bit of hair-pulling. The local constabulary became involved, and Cranky's cousin found herself with a court date. Only a misdemeanor was alleged, so it wasn't the crime of the century.

Still, Cranky didn't get into a courtroom much. Thus here was an opportunity to shine. The only witness against Cranky's cousin was the other young lady. In fact, since only a misdemeanor was involved, there was no prosecuting attorney. The complaining young lady took the stand and told the judge her version of events. The judge, incidentally, who Cranky had been before on several other occasions, conducted his court in the head-down position. He was continuously writing and rarely looked up for eye-contact with anyone in the courtroom−attorneys, parties, police officers, spectators, anyone.

The young lady completed her perceptions of the truth as she remembered them. As one might expect, she was just an innocent victim of a wrathful other woman. But Cranky had heard his cousin's version of the incident, and that version included one item that the complaining young lady had not mentioned.

So Cranky got right to it: “Miss Jones, isn't it true that you called my client a 'Mothaf***ing B****'?”

The low rumble of courtroom back-up noise ceased. Jaws of spectators and attending law enforcement officers dropped. The judge looked up from his writing. And the young lady on the stand commenced a flustered bout of hemming and hawing.

Soon after, the judge ended the proceedings by instructing the two young ladies to stay the heck away from each other. Some months later, after several billing notices, Cranky's cousin paid him his $10 fee.

All in all, it was one of Cranky's finest courtroom moments, rivaled only by the time a young male client ran from the courtroom shortly after being told by the judge that he needed to spend some time at a state facility for troublesome youths. After following his client for several hours through the picturesque Colonial Capital, Cranky was able to flag down an officer of the law, who returned Cranky and the adventurous youth to the courtroom.

But that's another story.

BATON BEING PASSED

The big picture significance of Edwardo Snowden and the NSA situation is that the generational baton is being passed. Maybe slowly but certainly inexorably. This doesn't mean that Ed is any sort of hero, or even that he shouldn't spend considerable time in the slammer, provided he eventually surfaces in U.S. custody.

What it does mean is that the generation now on the precipice of power will not be denied, as previous generations on the precipice of power were not denied. The flow of time is inexorable, and no ranting and raving by the likes of Dick Cheney, Bill O'Reilly, and others standing athwart history yelling "Stop" can hold back the tide.

The generation on the precipice of power is a nerdy group. Computerized social media and computerized everything else have been their environment. They are the first generation fully a product of the Information Age. They don't see 9/11 as older generations do. Older generations see 9/11 as a momentous, paradigm-threatening event epitomizing and releasing forces that must be defeated. The precipice generation is not so sure. Many of its members have no strong recollections of "Before." They came to adulthood in uncertainty. Sometimes they wonder what all the fuss is about.

What they do see, in the United States that is, is a government and ruling class that can be somewhat hysterical. Every minor issue has the potential of going viral, of causing massive and conflicting paranoias. The members of the precipice generation may have concerns about the aggressiveness and rigidity of foreign powers and ideologies, but they have similar concerns about the aggressiveness and rigidity of the right and left sides of the political and cultural spectrums in their own country.

Edwardo Snowden, Bradley Manning, they represent a generational rebellion against the old order. And us members of the old order? We best prepare for change, at least as far as the dominance of our world view is concerned.

WORST ELECTION CHOICE EVER?

Voters in the Commonwealth of Virginia (not a state, Dude; we're a Commonwealth) may be facing the worst election choice in the history of democracy, a history stretching back to at least Aristotle, Plato, Socrates, and their pals in ancient Greece.

Okay, that might be an overstatement. At least the two candidates for November's gubernatorial election are not crooks (that we know of). And at least the election appears to be real and not one of those pro forma phony (and often crooked) things held in many parts of the world.

Still, for voters in the vicinity of the political spectrum's center, it is hard to imagine two more unpalatable candidates than Republican Ken Cuccinelli and Democrat Terry McAuliffe. The Cuch is one of those far right whack jobs who have pretty much captured the Republican Party. Terry Boy is a Virginian mostly by virtue of paying Virginia taxes. The Cuch got his party's nomination by hijacking the nomination process from an open primary to a convention dominated by like-minded again'ers (those against just about anything). Terry Boy is on the verge of getting his party's nomination because the Virginia version of his party is devoid of state-wide leadership at the moment.

Do issues matter in this election? Probably some. What will probably matter most, however, is turn out. If turn out is low, the advantage goes to the Cuch who can count on the rabid support of fellow again'ers. If Terry Boy can persuade enough middle-of-the-roaders to overcome their apathy and show up at the pols, he has a chance.

But that's a lot of apathy for Terry Boy to overcome.