Chattanooga Justice or That Crazy Man with the Hair Bag

Jerry, my husband's father, took Chris and I to lunch at Sugar's Big Time Barbeque this afternoon. Sugar's rotisserie chicken is good; the grilled onions with a sprinkling of kosher salt are great. And I appreciate that the restaurant's fleet of lawncare specialists also eat corncobs, wilted heads of cabbage, and nearly anything else you offer--though they snubbed their little goat snouts at the corn bread that I threw into their pen. My only dislike of Sugar's is that they use all disposable serving ware--forks, knives, cups, and plates; it's time folks realize disposable really isn't.

But a break from food for a second: this morning I had to appear in court to "testify" against a guy who stole my license plate. I didn't see him steal my license plate, so I really had very little to offer; however, I was surprised to find that the thief walked only a few streets from his home to steal my plate. What's more, he was caught on February 1 drunk off his ass--slurred speech and his third DUI--driving on a revoked license at twenty-five mph, with a pocket full of marijuana, and sporting my license plate!

That said, perhaps it's just my recent court experience, but there are particularly blurred lines between right and wrong around here. One locally-known and obviously-crazy homeless man--the one with the hair bag--appeared today in court for loitering in the library. The judge asked, "Were you looking for something to read?" Then he sentenced the man to, "Stay away from the library." Meanwhile, Chattanooga's sheriff was arrested last Saturday, caught, hot-handed, holding 22 lbs. of cocaine and distributing weapons to drug dealers.

When Chris and I left the courthouse today and collected the parking ticket from under our wiper--it took two hours before my plate-thief could ask for an extension--I suppose it felt good to know that our eleven bucks would help fund Chattanooga's impeccable justice system which is about as good as throwing our eleven bucks to the trash with our plastic forks or feeding it to Sugar's lawncare crew.

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