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Squid #461
(published November 19, 2009)
Ask the Giant Squid: And Time Was Done
Who is Poor Mojo's Giant Squid?
Dear Giant Squid,

Will he do jail time?

James Adams, esq.

My Dearest James,

As I am certain you are well aware, these matters are far less simple to address then they are to raise, for there are ever so many mitigating litigating circumstances. To examine the matter at hand in its raw givens: the defendant was arrested on November 11 after he engaged in an altercation at the United Airlines ticket counter in the Los Angeles airport. Whilst the defendant held his ten-month pupal daughter-spawn, the photograph technician did approach in a stealthy, sharkish manner; when the photographazzi came within striking distance, the defendant did so—which is to say, strike—by his account defensively.

In any event, all can agree that the defendant held his smallkin, that the photographer came close, that the formermost struck the lattermost with great force, resulting in a general leaking of vital fluids from the photographers headsac, and that the result was that each attempted to place the other within the "citizen's arrest" simultaneously, despite neither having a clear notion what that might mean, either practically, nor legally.

But here, at this tight circumference, the circumstances mitigate:

The photographer claims he approach with the smiles, and that his interaction with the defendant were friendly-like. The defendant retorts that the photographer was belligerent and bearing his teeth in a predatory manner. The photographer accuses of aggressiveness, while the defendant defends that he was naught be defensive. The assailed rebuts that he was pursued and battered to the earth with thrice or more blows—hardly defensive—while the assailant himself avows there was but a single might blow.

And, as we slide back our perspective further, even more circumstances flood in to mitigate the litigation, for the defendant is himself a noted and much-famed professional pugilist—making it seem likely his heart motivation was one of armed aggressive assault—while the photographer is no johnny-point-and-shoot, but a professional annoyer-of-celebrities; he annoys not just by accident or nature, but by vocation.

And then we remove ourselves at yet another step, and note that the defendant is himself a notedly aggressive pugilist, noted for being the youngest boxer to ever win and hold World Boxing Council, World Boxing Association, and International Boxing Federation world heavyweight titles, both serially and in parallel. Do such achievements in and of themselves establish the defendant as a public nuisance and danger? By no means! Many of his fellow undisputed heavyweight champions were distinguished as gentle men in all other occasions. Just to name a pair, I invite readers to recall that Jack Dempsey was not just a scholar of that sweet science, but also a fine violinist and kitten therapist, and that likewise fellow pale pugilist Max Schmeling, in addition to savaging his opponents by hand, was also a fine and accomplished tort baker and numbered as one of the Righteous Among the Nations.

So, a life of boxing, by no means, should ever prejudice a jury against a defendant—even one who did chose to disqualify himself from his 1997 rematch with Evander of the Holy Fields by supping on portions of each of the man's ears. After all, these things are to be expected in the life of a celebrated athlete.

But this defendant, he is not limited to such good-hearted and boyish japes, nor limited to the boxing life, nor limited to the celebrities pukishness and rage. He is, sad to say, also a convicted felon, a sexual assailant, a noted sociopath, and a widely feared force of nature. If a hurricane were to wash away a storied American center of arts, culture, and debauchery, and then were to go on to sexually assault ,Miss Black Rhode Island and eat a man's ears—perhaps that natural disaster would have slightly more difficulty endearing itself to a jury than would the defendant in question. Perhaps. As it stands, even if the defendant refrains from egregious outbursts and buys pizza lunch for all, it is still a coin toss as to whether or not he will stroll forth from the courthouse a free and clear man.

Or, in short, the matter looks grim for the Kid Dynamite.

That said, in the final analysis, I wish to commend you on your perceptivity as a court watcher, as so few media analysts seem wont to openly acknowledge the defendant-in-question's gender in gender-appropriate terms. Kudos to you, good sir.

I Remain,
the Giant Squid

Post Scriptorum: Please send my fondest regards to your great uncles John and Samuel. John Quincy, for obvious reasons, can devour his own offals and sweetbreads in Hell, for all I care.

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see other pieces by this author | Who is Poor Mojo's Giant Squid? Read his blog posts and enjoy his anthem (and the post-ironic mid-1990s Japanese cover of same)

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