You can tell those federal folks a mile a way. Back in the day of Tobacco Road, they would be the ones sitting in the courtyard on Fridays after work, still wearing a tie, sipping a white wine spritzer while the state court guys and gals were doing Tequilla shots on the bar while singing "Dancing in the Dark" at the top of their lungs. They needed, in the wise words of Sergeant Hulka in Stripes to "Lighten Up Francis!".
But now we have "Elevator Gate" faithfully reported by everyone's favourite Federal Blogger.
The Scene is the Elevators in the King Building. Some genius turned them into the analog equivalent of an anonymous chat group by posting two "Post It" notes decrying the erosion of espirit de corps at the US Attorney's Office by the new US Attorney.
Mr Markus has the crime scene pictures posted here.
But then, remember those up-tight federales we spoke about to start the post? Apparently time (and maybe the availability of gummies) has loosened them up a bit, because the comments are ...well....positively Rumpolian. Go read them. They will make you laugh, from the pondering of the effects of making Paul Petruzzi head of major crimes (which would be an absolutely wonderful move in our opinion) to this genius comment about whom we have a standing offer for the author to become a guest blogger here (email us and we can talk contract and signing bonus): reprinted (without bothering to ask for permission): We are still laughing about the references to counting steps (totally irrelevant to the topic), the pending government shutdown, and the feds use of colored post it notes that sometimes turn up in discovery:
Deep in the heart of the King building, between stacks of boxes piled high and numbered, the fluorescent lights flickered and they met:
Consp. 1: Did you bring them?
Consp. 2: Yeah, but it wasn't easy. My secretary counts these things like my husband and his stupid steps...fuck, don't get me started.
Consp 1: Good - how many?
Consp. 2: Only four - the shutdown is coming and any more, I would have had to explain. She knows I don't mark up my goddammed 302s anyhow. Who the fuck does that anymore?
Consp. 1: I do, but I prefer colored ones - the dumb shit defense lawyers always think it means something. Mix it up...red, green, blue...they think I have some "system" in place. Dance little bitches. Dance.
Consp. 2: Dumbfuckers...the tricky part is making them think we are organized...
Consp. 1: HA!...The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist...
Consp. 2: What the fuck are you talking about? You and your goddammed movies...that doesn't even make sense. You would be a Art. III judge by now if you didn't keep saying dumb shit like that all the time.
Consp. 1: Fine....but it isn't that easy to have to explain why we didn't turn over a report, or keep track of the discovery we did or did not turn over...
Consp. 2: One word...parallegal...stop being such a gunner. How fucking hard is it to ask an agent 'what happened next', 'what did he say', 'what is "Movie" code for'...
Cossp. 2: Now, you best hope is to be a county court judge in Coral fucking Gables....
Consp. 2: You did this to yourself.
Consp. 1: Quit messing around, I have mag court in an hour and need to get these up.
Consp. 2: Do you even know what a PIP case is?...FUCK! I touched the front and back one - they can't be used....prints and DNA - you know OPR has nothing better to do.
Consp. 1: No prob - two will work....the others are standing by to click and send.
Consp. 2: Fine - get on with it....those horney fucking assholes from the 4th floor are going to be coming here soon for their "lunch meeting" and I can't tolerate them explain how they are looking for a missing DEA 6 or whatever again....
Consp. 1: Here you go...bye...call me later...