I can't tell you how excited I am about the summons I received yesterday to serve on a federal jury. I got one about a year ago informing me that I would be on call for a whole year, and now I guess I'm on call for a couple of months.

Truthfully, though, I have mixed feelings. While I do want to serve, I have always held that I personally would never want to be tried by a jury of my "peers." Not to sound snobbish or anything, but have you spoken with the average citizen lately? No? Here's a sociological experiment for you: Spend a little time hanging out in the snowblower aisle at Home Depot, and just eavesdrop for five or ten minutes. Now, would you want any of those jackholes deciding whether or not you're going to do time in prison? For that matter, would you want me making that decision? I didn't think so.

Less terrifying but more headache-inducing is the thought of deciding someone else's fate along with 11 other mouthbreathers you might see peeling back the bun and inspecting their slider at White Castle. I've seen enough Matlock to know exactly who's on those juries. The businessman who thinks the whole thing is cut-and-dry (guilty-as-charged!) and just wants to get back to work. The elderly black lady who spends the whole time knitting and slowly shaking her head. The middle-class housewife who's too timid to give her opinion. The guy in the red flannel shirt, who at the end of the trial we find out is actually the killer!

These concerns dampen but don't nullify my enthusiasm. As I said, I am excited to serve. Mainly because I'm the type of person who likes to be in on things. I like to know all the details. The story behind the story. And I enjoy being a good citizen.

The $40 per day, and $.97 milage, though, not to mention the chance to eat in the courthouse cafeteria, that's the sweet part of the deal.