absolutekarma

I have never understood the appeal of this holiday. The candy, the social aspects, the costumes; these are understandable, for children.

But I have never known any fool who could tell a frightening story. What is the point of a fear-based holiday when there is nothing fictitious of which one may be afraid? People are frightened by reality. There are no "scary stories" left to tell.

Hello, anons and various other lurkers. This is your Manfred von Karma/The Judge player.

I already have a comment box, but that is an account which I no longer use and in either case it is not getting much traffic. In the spirit of being able to better serve you, the reader, I have made this new one, which I hope you will fill up.

Anon commenting is on, and if IP address logging is on then I will turn it off after I make this post.

The purpose of this post is such that you may leave comments as to my playstyle, suggestions for how I may improve, and ideas as to things you would like to see done with the characters of Manfred von Karma and the esteemed Judge. Want to see interactions between them, or between one of them and a particular other character? Let me know, and I will see what I can do. Think I'm kind of off-kilter on one or both? Let me know, and I will do my level best to fix it.

I specifically am asking you to be selfish here, anonymous and lurkers: the only purpose I serve in this RP is to entertain you, the reader, and the best way for me to do that is with open and clear communication.

Drop a line. I am very eager to hear any criticism, suggestions, or ideas.

In light of the fact that my latest journal entry is apparently lacking sufficient "substance", I have been ordered to fill out another prompt. It happens to be my luck that this prompt is considerably more interesting.

I have never taken any interest in American politics: the two-party system this country has had running for the better part of two hundred years has resulted in a split between the nation's opinions and morals for no reason other than one's political affiliation... or, worse yet, the political affiliation of one's parents. One is a Republican or a Democrat, Conservative or Progressive (this is what people mean when they say "Liberal," though most fools aren't even aware of the distinction between the words). The conflict between the parties results in economic, legal, and even social stagnation. I would like a party to change that.

I will call my hypothetical party the Fool-Proof Party.

An interesting note about this question is that, in effect, it is asking how the writer would change the country if they had the choice. I find the idea enticing. The Fool-Proof party, in this hypothetical scenario, is lead by either myself or someone of whom I would approve.

In point of fact, this would not be a "platform" of the Fool-Proof Party, but once it came into power the necessary steps would be taken to cement its power permanently. The Republicans and Democrats would only continue to exist nominally, if at all.

The rule of the law would be absolute. There is no room for dissidence, no room for protest, no room for the radical thinking that would plunge us into chaos. Anarchy has no place in the Fool-Proof Party's America because everything is regulated, and the social contract is something to which one agrees merely by being born. Every person is a cog in the machine, with their own unique purpose to which they must adhere, as determined by a body of study set up by the Party. There is no individuality, there is no childhood or adulthood, male or female, white or black; everyone is a member of the Party, and hence every person is a person, provided for and tried the same as any other.

Power in the country would become much more centralized. A single person of appropriate merit, proving himself by sheer virtue of his position within the Party, would act as the Execute, the Legislative, and the Judicial branches together, with the common day-to-day necessities of carrying out the law relegated to Magistrates selected by the leader.

You may have heard of the Sexual Sterilization Act of Alberta, one of the few pieces of legislature which Canada can be credited for producing competently, though it did not last long enough to have a noticeable effect. A proper eugenics program, implemented on a wide scale, would suit this country nicely. Where the Alberta act falls short, however, is in the presumption that every person has a right to reproduce, which may be revoked if they are shown to pollute the gene pool. I prefer to take a more active assumption concerning eugenics: reproduction is not a right at all, it is a privilege which can only be afforded to the intellectual and physical elite. The Fool-Proof Party's breeding program would take every person, once they reach a certain age, and determine whether or not they are inherently superior to their peers. Only the best would be allowed to breed, and those made to breed a good deal so as to keep the population at an appropriate level.

Every person born would exist in a single database, detailing their parentage, genetic makeup, place of birth, criminal and social record, intelligence, charted physical fitness, and general aptitude for problem solving. Each person would be matched to a mate according to their profile so as to limit the risk of inbreeding and optimize the chance of a superior spawn.

I rather like this idea, and will continue to speak more on it, but I am being informed that I am approaching my time limit in the computer lab. I trust the staff will find this entry adequate.

...

This would be a thoughtful question, were it not for the utter irrelevance of its religious trappings.

However, the prompt itself is meaningless to me, for reasons which are obvious. I am merely fulfilling a quota.

This prompt is absurd, for the very idea of it as much as the reality of what is written here. It is not a punishable offense to encourage people to write poorly, but after having this perception of the "detective story" stereotype shoved so rudely into my face I am considering trying to push so that it will be punishable. The mangling of the English language, much less the mangling of narrative itself, is not an exercise in breaking "writer's block"; it is an assault against everything that the language and its storytelling body is supposed to stand for.

However, to fulfill some part of this prompt without giving in to the corrupt spirit of it, I will relate a story about a detective.

Once upon a time, not so long ago now, there was a new detective who was very proud of their position in the police force. Their eyes were bright and they were greatly admired by their peers both for their new found success and for their alacrity in their work. Who could be more greatly admired, the department asked, and the answer that rang out was "no one".

The day came where the detective was given their first truly important case: the investigation of a homicide most terrible. How excited they were! This would be the first true test of their abilities, their time in the sunlight, their opportunity to contribute to the furtherance of the law! They fell upon the case with all the dedication of a machine, combing through the crime scene with all the eye for detail that years on the force had granted them, unyielding in thoroughness and uncompromising in exactness. When the time came for the case and its evidence to be handed over to the presiding prosecutor, it was done with such brightness of expression that the detective's face was literally aglow. "Here, sir," they said. "This should be everything we need!"

The prosecutor, of steady hand and eye, took the case file into his hands and began to examine it in front of the detective. He said nothing, gave no sign of pleasure or displeasure as he turned the pages, taking note of the various pieces of evidence and their arrangement. The detective was breathless, waiting, sure that they would be praised for their hard and good work.

It was not long before the prosecutor closed the file and said to the detective, "This will need to be redone." The detective staggered, unable to react. "You have failed to take the big picture into mind, detective. Unsurprising, perhaps, but still crippling to our case. Go back, reexamine the crime scene, and then take the evidence you find there to branch out into related scenes and venues of information. I expect a new case document by this time tomorrow or I will have your badge." The detective was humbled, thereafter working under the direction of the prosecution, never again under the impression that they were somehow capable on their own.

This is the story of every detective who has ever lived, because every one of them has been a fool.

To correct any fool who feels the urge to jump in on this point: yes, "they" is an acceptable third-person gender neutral singular pronoun.

In keeping with the mandate of the prison, I am resuming the upkeep of this journal. The staff, feeling that I have been comparatively inactive in the past, have seen fit to give me "primers" concerning subjects which make for appropriate entries. They have suggested using two prompts per entry.

Were it not for the fact that any given subject can be made palatable by the application and refinement of proper thought, I would not be bothering. As it stands, I will be complying with the requests of the prison dogs.

The first prompt reads, "What has been the most tim-consuming thing you've done lately?" Ignoring the fact that Bloodspill Maximum Security's supplier lacks an editor and I have spent some time meditating on how this reflects on the prison as a whole, I have spent most of my time in the infirmary, nursing a broken hip. I have regained full mobility in both legs following my injury, as is to be expected.

The second prompts reads, "What accomplishment are you most proud of?" This question is the entire reason this entry exists.

I have had many accomplishments worth being proud of over the years, my record itself not the least of them, but the single event of which I am most proud took place in Los Angeles in October of 1997. "State vs. Farmes" was the case through which I gained my recognition in this country, not because it was a notable incident but because of its notable circumstances. It was a run-of-the-mill murder trial, the details of which are there for the perusal of anyone interested in educating themselves, save in one respect: the defendant was a twelve-year-old girl.

It should be needless, but I will say that the prosecution was able to have her tried as an adult. She was convicted on the second day of the trial, and executed a month later.

I am very proud of that, and meditate upon the feeling of the verdict being handed down whenever I am troubled.

[No GS4 spoilers. :D]

( ((Oh Klavier you're such a deluded optimistic fool. ;__;)) )

At the turn of the year, it is traditional to make a declaration of one's intent for the coming days and months. I own I have a few.

Perhaps to the hasty and uninformed, the idea of resolving to take action and change when one already stands at the peak of accomplishment is an erroneous act. However, those that assume this are mistaken; the contradiction lies only within the fool's mind.

Actions must be culled before they become poor habits. Perfection must always be striven towards in order to be attained. And in cases where nothing need be amended, one must resolve to continue steadfast along the same path, no matter the cost.

Not having attained even the most basic elements intrinsic to a flawless life, the great majority of you need not concern yourself with the validity of such a concept, of course. But to those of you willing to raise yourself from the effusive, simpering masses, you should take this lesson to heart.

Ah, the holiday season.

If it is treated as a time of familial gathering, then so be it. All that... excessive trim attached to the occasion fills me with disgust.

I am not one for festivities, nor for vacations, nor for the petty excuses that people cite to justify either during this period. Nor am I for receiving fuzzy, outlandish excuses for a hat, for that matter. The good mahogany cane the State of California has seen fit to permit me to use again, I consider a far superior gift.

The coldness, the heavy atmosphere that hangs in the air... it nearly makes one reminiscent. And perhaps that is the only other pleasant feature of this time of year.

"Merry Christmas."

What am I thankful for?

The peace and quiet before the rabble begins to wake in the morning.

The incompetent penal system and its administrators, to whom I owe this comfortable stay, replete with amenities.

The childish pranks one receives in the mail, proof of a pathetic, juvenile mind still crying over its hurts.

Seeing as how it is required of each inmate to write and reflect in a public journal of their own--a decision made due to some legislator's deluded concept of rehabilitation, and a wondrous use of taxpayer money, I will add--I have decided to utilize this space by making a note here for all incompetent and half-witted members of the press and public to peruse.

Yesterday, while reading over the paper, I came upon this line:

"Prosecutor Phillip Lerr will not be missed; his death, much like that of the mad prosecutor Manfred von Karma, is a fitting and appropriate end to his career."

Libellous aspect aside, I direct your attention to the blatantly incorrect portion of that statement.

TAKE NOTICE! I am not dead. And will not be any time soon, I assure you. You may thank our derelict system of justice for that.

I would appreciate it if all such rumours were quashed, along with the writers who wrote the ridiculous piece of nonsense in the first place.

~~~

One other note of importance: I have been informed that our dear attorney Mr. Phoenix Wright has finally realized the futility of continuing as a spotless and glorious member of the defense. Congratulations, Mr. Wright. I am pleased to once again see another petty romanticist utterly collapse under the mountain of values and beliefs that he has spewed from his mouth.

I knew you would.