Today, on the anniversary of the first successful use of the temporary insanity defense, let’s consider some special Inland Northwest pleas one might issue in noncriminal situations.
The Expo ’74 defense: “Why are you still talking about my transgression? It was a long time ago.”
The Bloomsday defense: “It was as if my Achilles tendons had been rammed by strollers 49 times. I just snapped. I’m not proud of how I acted, but that wasn’t the real me.”
The Temporary Idaho defense: “What did you expect?”
The Police Guild defense: “You don’t understand what it’s like to be one of us, so sit down and shut up.”
The Ballcap defense: “I don’t get why everybody is so uptight about it.”
The S-R defense: “Sure it has gotten more expensive, but it’s also smaller.”
The Marmot defense: “Habitat encroachment by developers forced me to do what I did.”
The STA Plaza defense: “I fell in with some bad company.”
The Hoopfest defense: “I guess I got a little over-excited there.”
The Spokane Amtrak defense: “It was so late, I didn’t know what I was doing.”
The “Vision Quest” defense: “I was trying to lose weight and out of my mind.”
The Fluoride defense: “I had to do what I did because they were threatening to contaminate my precious bodily fluids.”
The At the Lake defense: “I wasn’t even in town when that happened.”
The Buffet Pants defense: “Look, I want what I want. Deal with it.”
The Bing Crosby defense: “I was dreaming about Christmas at the time the alleged incident took place.”
Warm-up questions for those who eat lunch at their work stations in a commercial setting: Can those nearby smell your food? Can those within a three-block radius smell your food? Do you literally snarl while feeding on your meal? Do people say “Boy that smells good” or do they make gagging sounds? Does the sight of you eating prompt colleagues to talk about nature documentaries?
Today’s Slice question: Where would you find the smartest people in Spokane?
sponsored Kids learn about money from their parents.