The Conrad Murray trial - a brief comment

I’m not really all that interested in the trial of Conrad Murrray. I know a lot of people are; after all, we're talking about the death of Michael Jackson.

The reason I’m not that interested is that, whichever way you look at it, the answer’s the same. Michael Jackson killed himself. It doesn’t much matter whether you feel his doctor was the one who actually gave Jackson a lethal dose of Propofol, or Lorazepam (or whatever drug in may have been); even if that were the case, it would still have been Jackson who hired that doctor and effectively told him what to do.

I will, however, make one comment on the trial. Today, both the prosecution and the defense made their closing arguments. The prosecution’s case was dealt with by David Walgren, who did what was expected of him. He presented a strong and convincing case, and that was about it.

The defense however, was another matter. The closing arguments were handled by Edward Chernoff, a lawyer from - of all places - Houston, Texas.

Throughout the case, Chernoff, ably helped by his associates, made more or less a mess of things. It was very difficult, at times, to even try and figure out where they were going.

Today, however, all that changed. Chernoff gave a blistering closing. It probably won’t wash - Murray will be convicted for involutary manslaughter (it’s Michael Jackson, after all) - but boy, did he do well.

“There is no perfect villain”, Chernoff said, “and there’s no perfect victim”. And that pretty much sums up the case. Murray was hardly a perfect doctor; but then, Jackson was hardly the ideal patient either.

As I said, Jackson killed himself. There is, in this trial, only the question to what extent Murray’s accessorial role is actually criminal. It makes the case, viewed from a broader perpective, more or less trivial, but watching Chernoff today, one has to admire what some lawyers can make of such trivialities.

Well done, Chernoff!

The Republican Gang

It’s time - past time, surely - to look at the Republican race. Will they come up with a viable nominee? Will they? Will they?! Oooh, it’s so exciting…

Actually, the first few months weren’t all that exciting at all. They were rather dull, in fact. The only thing we really had to work with were the candidates’ debates, and those debates weren’t anything to write home about. By and large, they all followed the same pattern: in one corner we had a cluster of Decidedly Small People (a.k.a. dwarfs), and, in the other, the whir/click Mormon Mechanism known as Mitt Romney. Throughout the debates, the dwarfs would try and aim their peashooters at Romney, and time and again, Romney simply dodged. And the dwarfs would miss, and Romney would emerge unscathed.

Inevitably, though, things started to change. The first reason for this was the entry of Rick Perry, the governor from Texas. Now I’m not quite sure who the Republicans’ coach is (I’ve a sneaky feeling it might be Newt “The Grinch” Gingrich, but don’t quote me on that), but swapping the ailing Tim Pawlenty with the much more interesting Texanator was a great decision on his part. Without actually opening his mouth once, Perry happily leapfrogged over Romney and, for a time, perched at the top of the heap. And then, of course, he did open his mouth, and went tumbling down again.

The second reason was the Black Walnut Guy. Unlike Perry, Herman (known to his friends as “Herb”) Cain was one of the original dwarfs, and at first his presence didn’t really register in one’s mind. But then - one might imagine the utter bewilderment of all the pundits - he won the Florida Straw Poll, a feat seldom accomplished by mere mortals. After all, this is a poll where hundreds (and I means hundreds) of people voted. And Herbie won! Suddenly, the old Walnut was thrust into the limelight, and it was all “Honeypie” and “Sweetiecheeks” and whatnot.

Except that that didn’t last all too long either. One of those honeypies had had a little fracas with Herb, and then it appeared another did too. And Sweetiecheeks didn’t seem to have liked old Herbie’s affectionate remarks either. Oh dear, oh dear.

So, it was back to the Texanator, then. Except that he’d unfortunately chosen just this pivotal moment to show what an incomprehensible ass he was, appearing before a New Hampshire Republican Clapper Society drunk. “No!” his staff quickly replied, he wasn’t drunk at all. “Nothing of the sort!”. Yikes! You mean, he was sober? You mean he's just that weird when he's not on anything at all? Oh yes, I sure want that guy somewhere in the vicinity of the nuclear button. “Hee hee, live free or die!”

Did I miss anyone? Except the remaining huddle of dwarfs, over there by the corner? Oh yes, wait, I can hear the distinct whir. I can discern a click-clack-clicking. The Mormon Mechanism is still in motion, much as you might have missed him lately. And how shall we describe him? Well, he’s still unscathed, for want of a better word. And he will remain so, until someone decides that the belief in a fraudulent imposter who decided to reinvent history and toss all logic to the wind is a little too weird to stomach.

One wonders how well Obama is sleeping, these days. Better than he should be, I’d warrant.