Received a summons today to serve on a state “petit jury.”  A small jury?  A jury of small people?  A jury of little consequence?  Anyway, I responded with Arlo Guthrie’s line to the draft board on “Alice’s Restaurant,” “I wanna Kill!  I wanna Kill!).  No harm done. I don’t imagine the little people on a little jury would have the opportunity to bring about the death of anyone.  It’s those big people of the big juries who get the opportunity to bring about the actual death of someone.  Well, anyway, I took advantage of the stipulation that, being 75 years or older, I could opt out of the honor of serving.  Had I been in the least inclined to be up and in court by 8:00 a.m. every morning for at least a week, if I didn’t have the opportunity to bring about an unpleasant death I might at least have been able to go along with the other little jurors and take the obviously lying little bastard’s word for it and condemn the clearly nicer person to a lifetime of penury and misery.  I mean no disrespect in this.  I’m told that jury service is a right and a privilege and no doubt is the highlight of a lifetime for many petit people called to petit juries and having no acceptable excuse for declining, such as being at least 75 years old and therefore likely to be slipping a bit in the clarity of thought department and unlikely to be able to maintain bladder control through opening arguments.