These are from a book called “Disorder in the American Courts,” and are things people actually said in court, word for word, taken down and now published by court reporters that had the torment of staying calm while these exchanges were actually taking place.

ATTORNEY: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?
WITNESS: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.
________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Are you sexually active?
WITNESS: No, I just lie there.
___________________________________________

ATTORNEY: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all?
WITNESS: Yes .
ATTORNEY: And in what ways does it affect your memory?
WITNESS: I forget.
ATTORNEY: You forget? Can you give us an example of something you forgot?
__________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Now doctor, isn’t it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn’t know about it until the next morning?
WITNESS: Did you actually pass the bar exam?
____________________________________

ATTORNEY: The youngest son, the twenty-year-old, how old is he?
WITNESS: He’s twenty, much like your IQ.
____________________________ _______________

ATTORNEY: Were you present when your picture was taken?
WITNESS: Are you shitting me?
________________________________________
ATTORNEY: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: And what were you doing at that time?
WITNESS: Getting laid
___________________________________________

ATTORNEY: She had three children, right?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: How many were boys?
WITNESS: None.
ATTORNEY: Were there any girls?
WITNESS: Your Honour, I think I need a different attorney. Can I get a new attorney?
__________________________________ _________

ATTORNEY: How was your first marriage terminated?
WITNESS: By death.
ATTORNEY: And by whose death was it terminated?
WITNESS: Take a guess.
____________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Can you describe the individual?
WITNESS: He was about medium height and had a beard.
ATTORNEY: Was this a male or a female?
WITNESS: Unless the circus was in town, I’m going with male.
_____ _______________________________

ATTORNEY: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney?
WITNESS: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.
_____________________________________

ATTORNEY: Doctor, how many of your autopsies have you performed on dead people?
WITNESS: All of them. The live ones put up too much of a fight.
________________________________________
ATTORNEY: ALL your responses MUST be oral, OK? What school did you go to?
WITNESS: Oral.
_________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?
WIT NESS : The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.
ATTORNEY: And Mr. Denton was dead at the time?
WITNESS: I believe so. If not, he was by the time I finished.
___________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?
WITNESS: Are you qualified to ask that question?
_____________________________________

And the best for last:

ATTORNEY: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: Did you check for blood pressure?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: Did you check for breathing?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: How can you be so sure, Doctor?
WITNESS: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.
ATTORNEY: I see, but could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless?
WITNESS: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law.

Latchkey Kid
Words and Music:  Mike Vitale

Coloring books when I was nine
Anything that I could do to pass the time
Finished up my homework after I go home from school
Built a blanket fort in my living room

Set the oven to 400 degrees myself
Perched up on the countertop to reach a kitchen shelf
It’s dinner time, and my parents are nowhere to be seen
So corn dogs and fish sticks are my routine

I’m a Latchkey Kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in

Waiting by the phone for my parents to call
Staring at our family portrait hanging on the wall
My daddy says, “no TV” if stay up too late
Too bad he aint here to regulate

I’m a Latchkey Kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
I’m a Latchkey Kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in

Sometimes my father would come home late
And my mother would be drunk by then, smell perfume, and throw a dinner plate
No one to read me story when I tuck myself into bed
So I dream of love
I dream of love
and then start my day again

I’m a latchkey kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
I’m a latchkey kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
I’m a latchkey kid
I’m a latchkey kid
I’m a latchkey kid

SELF:   “I bet other people don’t visit Capitol Records that often either.”

So from this minor leap in logic, I took the next big jump in assuming that you care and decided to write a blog about it.

Crack of Knuckles.

So, first thing is first: how about some photos?  This is the sink from the Capitol Records Mastering Department bathroom:

Now, personally, I feel that this sink says volumes about their mastering work—however, these two points are sufficient:

1. It fits one small infant—not that I’ve tried: more of an observation and less of a truth—I didn’t have a baby handy.
2. While music may or may not be born in this department, like this bathroom sink, they do a fantastic job of making music clean and presentable.

If putting out a record is liking birthing a baby, then mastering might be like a gentle wipe with a moist cloth on that infant afterwards: Lord knows I struggle to get my music to smell and look good, especially after I’ve been pushing it through my proverbial creative uterus for a long time—at least it feels that way.

With that being said, I am tickled to death with how much life Kevin Bartley brought to the album and I can’t wait for you to hear it.

This is Kevin—he’s the dude that mastered the disc and an all around nice guy:

Unrelated to Kevin, I was noticing on the way to the bathroom (as their hallways adorned these trophies) that countless other artists with mullets have had their albums mastered here.  Here are a few:

You know, to quote Richard Marx:  “Wherever you go, whatever you do, I’ll be right here waiting for you”— and certainly, here he is.

I’m debating growing my hair out in a similar fashion to follow suit—it seems like the thing to do.  Granted, not all of their artists have mullets, so it’s not necessary:  I was just thinking in terms of my business to party ratio and where those two ideas meet on my head.  For example:

He’s all party and no business (I’m talking hair, not music… George Harrison is amazing), and he mastered here also—I’ll get back to you on the whole mullet thing.

In terms of being wowed, this was one of my favorite albums growing up!  Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd changed my life  I feel honored to have the same mastering team working on my music:

In the meanwhile, it’s nice to be on the inside for once and I’m glad that you could join me:

See you back on the other side.

- Mike

PS

I’m thinking CD release party real soon, with a band.

PSPS

If you like these musings about my life, I added a function at the top right hand corner of this wordpress blog where you can Subscribe to them by adding your email address!  I would like that—feel free if you desire.  It’s wonderful having an audience.

Step 1:  Keep your mouth shut.

Step 2:  Keep it shut.

Step 3:  Wow, that was tempting, maybe I should speak up… no I’m resolute.

Step 4:  Don’t make eye contact.

Step 5:  Was that a camera flash?

Step 6:  Woops, I looked.

Step 7:  Wait, did he just wink at me?

Let me explain.

It all started off as an innocent evening of music going.  I was out to watch two of my many favorite local talents, Yeah, Brother, and Danny Maika.  At the conclusion of Yeah, Brother’s set at McClain’s Coffeehouse, I rendezvoused with two friends of mine, Max (who plays Banjo in the group Yeah, Brother) and his lovely girlfriend, Taryn, for an evening of minimalist debauchery at another local haunt of mine, The Pint House in downtown Fullerton a few blocks away.

Now, Taryn, Max, and I arrived just in time to catch Danny’s set.  Having my heart set on getting a little heady, I ordered a few pints of Guinness, and if I were to measure my progress in getting pissed by glasses consumed, I was somewhere around 3 or 4 before my interesting predicament occurred.  It all started with a note:

“So, whatcha drinkin’?”

The note was passed along to me from a young lady I am an acquaintance of, sitting at the table next to us.  Now, for the record, Brittany was not the author of the note; she was just the messenger.  In fact, the penman was a dude next to her whom I had made eye contact with briefly and gave a friendly smile (mistake #1 for those of you who may be keeping count).

Now, that evening, I was running under the assumption that everyone at the neighboring table are friends of one another.  Since I knew a couple of people in their group, and I was bouncing back and forth talking with various individuals seated there, I didn’t think much on the note I received, and cordially replied verbally to the written inquiry by saying to the gentleman out loud, “Guinness” (mistake #2).  I resumed my conversation with Taryn and Max, enjoyed listening to Danny Maika, and went on with my evening as planned.

As fate would have it, when our waitress magically appears at the table again with another round of drinks for Max and Taryn, she also happens to have a pint of Guinness that I didn’t order.  I was perplexed and pointed out that I didn’t order this drink, to which she replies, “Yes, I know.  He ordered it for you,” pointing to the author of the note; he waves.  Decision time:

a.)   Do I accept the beer from the stranger at the table next to me?

b.)  Do I refuse the beer?

I’m not one for being rude or un-cordial, so I accepted the beer and enjoyed it (mistake #3).  By doing so, perhaps I implied any number of things to the gentleman that bought me the beer:

1.    My cordial smile and head nod when we made eye contact earlier in the evening meant something more than “hello.”

2.    Like the Skittles ads, I taste the rainbow.

Unfortunately for him (and awkwardly for me), neither of these are true, however, at this point, it was too late.  I spent roughly the next 45 minutes avoiding his heavy drunken gaze and continued efforts to flirt from 10 feet away.  These included awkward long stares that I couldn’t help but notice from my peripheral as he tried in vain to initiate a visual exchange by persistently snapping photographs of me with a bright flash; he then would follow this with several stares or gestures that made Taryn laugh hysterically next to me.  At this point, I had already been taking flack from her considering my acceptance of the free drink and my explanation that I think it carried intentions beyond getting me drunk.

At the conclusion of Danny’s set, my drunken admirer invited himself over for a friendly chat, in which case, I stuck around for a minute or two, and then excused myself to go use the restroom.  Upon my arrival back, I catch the tail end of Max, Taryn’s, and my not-so-secret admirer’s conversation about him being an Interscope Records recording artist who was dropped from his label because his music was “too dark.”  I thanked him for the beer, after which he replied, “my pleasure” with a hint of facial grimace, and then he left.

Joey, if you ever end up reading this, I mean no offense and find your advances flattering, however, I prefer to keep the company of a woman.  I can’t help it and hope you understand.  Please don’t take offense, and thank you for the Guinness; it was cold, delicious, my favorite, and I appreciated the gesture.  If I can carry anything home from this story, I think it’s cool that we (as human beings with feelings and passion) are progressively moving towards a world where one man can hit on another in an open public space and the worst thing that happens is a blog.  My hat goes off to you Joey (and I mean that with the most respect possible); you know who you are and you are proud of it!  I wish more people could truly say that about themselves.

So, until the next time I get hit-on by a man, or until I find something else to write about, this is Mike Vitale saying, salutations, and thank you for reading.

- Mike

Now, at this point in my tale, it’s important to point out that I had just gotten paid from my job as a shipping/receiving specialist at the local sports store (I’m not sure what was so special about the shipping and receiving there), so this situation found me with a large fold of money in my pocket.  As I gingerly thumbed through the half-folded earnings (from my days spent counting the contents of boxes full of blank t-shirts) it later occurred to me that maybe that maneuver of mine was not so smart, mind you, in the present company of our new homeless friend; this realization (especially) became increasingly apparent in the company of a starved glare fixated on the contents of my hand.  Having traversed through a cornucopia of twenty-dollar bills in order to arrive, at last, at several smaller dead presidents, my fingers finally settled slowly on three or four one dollar bills; I hand him my small Sally Struthers’ Donation to his self-serving humanitarian effort with a smile that would have illuminated a candle-lit-rural home during the turn of the 20th century with the electricity of my contribution; and I suppose I wished he would have felt something like that farmer turning on his porch light for the first time, illuminating that slow and cold early morning jaunt between his house and the dairy stall to milk Bertha.  No such luck though. As it turns out, I was Bertha, and he could care less how either of us had arrived at that milking stall.  What I received instead was a slow pause, a long look at the new shade of green in his right hand, and then a strong and cold stare back with the expression of someone who was just handed a Ziploc bag full of diarrhea.  He sort of mumbles something under his breath and then exclaims with the passion of a true professional panhandler: “Is that it?”

There’s nothing quite like someone looking a gift horse in the mouth.  I then handed him a ten-dollar bill before he said one of the most alarming things in the history of my existence on this, sometimes, cold and dark planet, “You better pray that I don’t see you again tonight.”  The words rolled off of his mouth with the grim expression of someone who felt the world had turned a cold shoulder on him a long time ago, and he was out to get what wasn’t coming to him willingly.  His intentions with that phrase were veiled in a Wizard of Oz-type mystery and I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant with such a cryptic response to what I thought was a kind gesture.  Did he mean that he would beat me down and rob me blind if he saw me again OR was it a joke to express the fact that he thought I was a pushover?  Either way, it wasn’t meant to be flattering and I felt the sting of an open hand across my face, as I had been bitch slapped by his parting words.

This experience tarnished my outlook on contributing to the community for a long time.  Now, it’s not to say that I haven’t given money to someone on the street in the meanwhile: quite the opposite.  I just find myself exercising a lot more scrutiny (if you can’t already tell by the tone of my story) and I’m ashamed that this is the case.  Yet, exclusive of the circumstances described above, I had an experience yesterday that reminded me of how beautiful giving can be.

I was outside of Ralph’s, in the parking lot (on my way to use the Coin Star machine inside the store) when I saw a woman, her adolescent child, and small puppy sitting in the back of a Chevy Trailblazer hatchback.  The mother was holding a sign that said, “Stranded without gas, food or money.  I just want to get home to Texas.  Please help.”  I saw that her car had Texas license plates, so I handed her a few dollars shyly and started to walk away; she tried to thank me as I headed towards the entrance of Ralph’s, but like a complete jerk, I kept walking (I wish that I had a do-over for that moment).  The Coin Star machine inside the store faced towards the parking lot and as I was cashing in my change, I noticed that her dire situation changed dramatically within the short amount of time I was inside the store.  She had several people walk up to her and hand her money.  I thought more on what I had done (walking away like that when she was trying to thank me) and decided to strike up a conversation with her and find out her story before I went to grab something to eat.  In our conversation, I introduced myself and found out that she and her daughter were planning on moving to California (as I could see from their car full of possessions), but that it didn’t work out and she “just wanted make her way back home to Texas.”  She explained to me how this was her third day sitting outside of Ralph’s asking for help.  She said that the last two days of asking for assistance had brought her nothing but empty stares, or worse yet, not even a glance from the people who passed her by, but that her luck had changed just a moment ago when I handed her a few dollars.  She told me that a complete stranger came up after me and handed her a $100 bill shortly after I walked into the store.  She had a fist full of money that she was clutching at with a swimming desperation and started to sob, not from pain, but from joy.  She thanked me a told me that God was with me.  Just as she did so, another woman stopped in her Lexus and handed me $20 to give to her.

Perhaps the world isn’t such a cold place after all, and that the people who need help, still get it.  This goes out to Matilda and her family.  I wish her a safe trip home.

- Mike

I woke up this morning at around 8:00 A.M. and I was giddy to get out of bed.  I cooked breakfast and practiced my guitar playing (a Charlie Christian Solo).  Now, the thing that I found particularly fascinating was my enthusiasm to start my day.  As of late, I have been looking forward to waking up and being alive.  Now, admittedly, I fear that this pleasure I describe is fleeting, as the more I talk in absolutes to my life (or anything for that matter), the more I find them to be untrue.  Nonetheless, in the case of this morning (as well as for the past month or so), I hardly sleep as much as a normal person should, and prefer to get up early like a fisherman or a surfer in pursuit of the perfect catch.  But why?

As I was cutting up the vegetables for my dirty eggs, I mulled over this question for quite some time and tried to collect a number of facts that I thought might be relevant to the happiness I was feeling:

- I don’t work for anyone else; I am in business for myself.  Therefore, I can get up and work whenever I want to work (or need to… most of us have bills to pay).  However, I am really eager to work hard as I have found that I work with more diligence for myself than I will for anyone else.

- Music is my business.  I get to focus on my main passion in order to survive.

- I have people around me that love me (and I too them).  This is hard to ignore and I dare say that I could live another day without this.

- I have been trying (perhaps entirely in vain) to hold on to a piece of my youth; the ever elusive side of me that used to sit in my room when I was 5 or 6 years old, making things and being creative.  It seems like this is becoming increasingly difficult to hold on to as I get older and just as our own human metamorphosis never seems to stand out as much when we look in the mirror at the same face everyday, for this reason, I experience this most prevalently in my peers and it comes across in a very frightening manner at times; it’s like a dark ominous shadow that crawls over the face of my loved ones and pollutes the very essence of their youth.  Life and the pursuit of survival seems to do an efficient job of stealing this sort of essential life blood from our veins.  I too worry that this is a battle that I won’t win… however, I can say that I have escaped the grasp of this eclipse this morning.

- I am surrounded by creative gifts that artists birth into this world like an expectant mother.  I get to wake up and take all of this in like a deep breath, whether it be a good book, CD, or a piece of art work… maybe even a delicious recipe.

- Health?  I’ve been running a lot.  This does something special for my head; it makes me think in a way that I relish.

Who is to know for sure why I have been so anxious and giddy to greet my day.  I am sure that I will rejoin the ranks of pessimism here shortly.  Perhaps someone will step on my rose-colored glasses (just please don’t do it today after you read this blog… let me enjoy this).  Happiness is so fleeting.  I’ll try not to hold on too tight; it might be fragile.

I’m reminded of a great scene from a movie that I absolutely adore:

Here’s to staying young on the inside and I’ll try to be careful what I wish for.  I hope this finds some of you feeling equally well; if not, I would happily trade some of my joy for anyone’s pain.  It’s the least I can do.

-Mike

Speaking of which, whatever happened to Jeff Goldblum?

www.youtube.com/watch?v=deppIzXmmY4

More importantly, whatever happened to Steve Guttenberg? He owned the 80′s as only Steve Guttenberg could:

Police Academy
Cocoon
Short Circuit
3 Men and a Baby
[not to mention all the sequels that these movies inspired]

… just putting that out there. I’m sure you’re just finishing up

Don’t forget to wash your hands.

~ Mike

The Orange County Music Awards will take place on Saturday April 4th at The Grove of Anaheim! While it may seem that this type of event has a built-in audience and is a mainstay attraction to Orange County, your support and attendance on April 4th not only solidifies your interest in the music scene, but also helps to support the continuation of this event and it’s ability to recognize local talent from the music scene here in Orange County (in other words, buy some tickets and join the fun this year).

For those of you interested in attending this years Orange County Music Awards (and I would love to have you there to support), you can purchase tickets for $25.00 at The Grove of Anaheim box office OR at Ticketmaster:

http://www.ticketmaster.com/event/09004166A5B84495?artistid=1271733&majorcatid=10005&minorcatid=0

You can also find more information regarding this years OCMA’s at their website:

www.ocmusicawards.com

Thank you to everyone for listening to my music! I can’t imagine my life without a guitar in my hands and a microphone in front of me. To me, that is living.

Cheers and I hope to see you out on April 4th at The Grove!

~ Mike

9:30 AM
the continental breakfast
is already gone

In all fairness, Days Inn told me 5:30 to 9:30 AM… and apparently, they are very serious about this.

Seattle University was amazing last night. I came in expecting something far different then what I received, and to say the least, I am anxious to come back. Few things in life make a 1,000 miles seem like a jaunt, however, my reception last night pulls its weight in charm. Thank you! I had your attention and you have my gratitude… and consequently my CD, and that’s cool.

I’m on my way out the door to see Seattle a bit. I did a lot last time I rolled through town:

SPACE NEEDLE – check
EXPERIENCE MUSIC PROJECT – check
PIKE’S PLACE MARKET – check
DOWNTOWN – check
MUSEUMS – check

Where’s the fun in repeating yourself though?

As a side note, I was in Portland the night before, and my friend Joy was telling me a story about a whale that accidentally became beached somewhere along the Portland shore. Now, the whale unfortunately died or was dead upon arrival, but this left an enormous creature lying along the banks of their waterfront, begging the question, what do we do with this enormous dead carcass? The wisest of what Portland had to offer met and devised a plan.

Do we chop it up and dispose of it? NO

Feed it to sharks? NO

Do we find someone that could try to make good use of it, perhaps for study? NO

Can it be buried? NO

THE ANSWER:

They blow it up with dynamite. Hard to believe? Yes. So, this is for you:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=PZhn28_Z9wc

Coming to you from Seattle, this is Mike Vitale with KATU Channel 2 News.

~ Mike

see more pwn and owned pictures

see more pwn and owned pictures

see more pwn and owned pictures

If you like this (shame on you… shame on me), you can find plenty more at:

www.failblog.org

… the above are some of the more domesticated examples. Just fair warning.