Vote!
My plan was to vote at around 10am this morning, after the people with day jobs had had a chance at it, but as I woke up at 6:20 this morning and couldn't get back to sleep, and the dryer repairman came at 7:55 and was done by 8:15, Al asked me if I wanted to go vote with him. I agreed, figuring that if the lines were too long, I would just come back later.
The line *was* long, but Al held my place while I went to get a coffee 4 blocks away, and by the time I returned he'd made it about halfway through. It was only about another 15 minutes or so after that. I'd intended to bring my camrea with me, but in the rush to head out with Al I forgot it. As soon as I'm done writing this, I'll head back out to take election-day photos.
Some observations on the day so far:
- What's wrong with waving? I woke up to lots of honking, and I thought, "Jeez, don't you realize this is a residential neighborhood? Get over your petty commuter issues about who pulled out in front of whom and give the horn a break!" After passing a woman holding up a HONK FOR KERRY sign at the corner of 20th and the Ben Franklin Parkway on the way for coffee, however, I'm now wondering if all the honking wasn't in anger, but in support of our next president. Either way, I wish that woman had encouraged people to WAVE FOR KERRY instead of honk.
- Looking for trouble I overheard a guy a few people in front of us in the voting line questioning the volunteer pollworker about whether there were any sample ballots in Spanish. When she replied that she didn't know, he said, "well, there are SUPPOSED TO BE!" Pollworker: "Do you need one? Or do you know of anyone else here who needs one?" Man: "No, but THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO BE AVAILABLE." Pollworker: "Let me ask." When she returned, she pointed out that the sample ballots were already bilingual (every party was listed in both English and Spanish, as were the instructions for voting). The man reached for the ballot she was holding and quickly scanned it. "There's nothing on here about provisional ballots. You have to tell people that they're entitled to cast a provisional ballot." Personally, I'm convinced that if someone who spoke only Spanish showed up and was denied the right to vote, someone else in the line would have told him or her about the provisional ballot option. There are just too many people itching for a fight here to have it happen otherwise.
- Riiiiiiiiiight Al's plan was to vote a straight Democratic ticket (he was a bit nervous that it wouldn't work correctly, so he ended up voting one candidate at a time). When he came out of the booth, he said to me, "I think that volunteer [a different one than the woman with the ballot] was a Republican." Me: "What makes you say that?" Al: "When I walked up to the booth, she said, 'If you want to vote a straight party ticket, just press here, where it says "Republican."'"
- What does it take to get a ticket in this town? After voting, I walked Al to work. At the corner of 17th and Market, we opted not to cross with the green because we didn't get a head start, and if it turned yellow, I wasn't going to be able to run. (I'm feeling a lot of pressure from the baby this morning.) While we waited, we noticed a cop pull up to the red light on Market, while none of the traffic with the green light was moving. Turns out it was because the first car in line, a cab, was taking on a passenger. He finally went just as the light turned yellow—and not one but THREE cars behind him ran the red light. The cop just looked after them, and drove on.
- Yikes! On the way home, I found myself approaching the corner of 16th and JFK just as a fire truck was pulling up to block three lanes of traffic on JFK (there was already a cop car blocking one). As I crossed JFK, I saw the reason for the blockage: there was a man lying under a bloody sheet with paramedics and firemen attending him. I don't know whether he was hit by a car or what, but it wasn't pretty.
More observations (and photos!) from Election Day later...
You've Been Called For Jury Duty
I used to have a Law & Order trivia quiz on this this site called You've Been Called for Jury Duty (I took it down before the rm -r debacle because it was so old). The idea was to go through voir dire (i.e., the quiz) with the goal of gaining the jury, not avoiding it. The top 12 scorers got on the jury; there were anther 10-14 slots for alternates.
The idea behind the quiz was to put to use all the trivia facts I'd collected over the course of a couple years of watching seasons 4 and 5 on NBC and re-runs on A&E, discussing the show on the Law & Order Mailing List, and taking actual notes on every episode in seasons 1-5 (I still have them, believe it or not). That, and to highlight the fact that jury service was something to look forward to rather than something to avoid. How fascinating to hear all the evidence in a trial and try to determine the extent of guilt, if any, and possibly to determine the penalty! How enlightening (and possibly frustrating, I imagine) to see how other jurors reason, argue, and draw conclusions! Definitely more fun, as civic duties go, than filling out tax forms.
The enthusiasm I had for jury duty when I wrote the quiz in 1995 was still in evidence when I first got called, in San Francisco. I made it as far as voire dire for an asbestos injury trial but was disqualified (they didn't specify a reason, but it was probably one or more of the following: (1) they lost my jury questionnaire, (2) my father was an auto mechanic who'd worked with brake pads when I was a kid, (3) I sat under a pipe with exposed asbestos in my high school Spanish class for a year, or (4) I'd read A Civil Action—one of the defendents' attorneys seemed very worried about that).
I kept hoping I'd get called in Truckee; I was registered to vote in Nevada County and was always missing absentee ballot deadlines, and I wanted to participate in the community more. I finally did get a summons... days before I closed on the sale of my house there. By the time I was scheduled to report, I was no longer a resident.
Today my number came up in Philadelphia. After years of dying to be on a jury, after an entire year of being absolutely free to serve, they're summoning me to the courthouse. Now, when I'm breastfeeding a baby. (I've asked for a postponement for that reason.) I'm bummed that I can't serve, but right now the kid is more important than civic duty. I'm still a little nervous about child care when I do eventually get summoned again, but I really don't want to avoid service entirely—and not just because I find the prospect of sitting on a jury exciting. I worry that if no one wants to serve, justice will not be served. I don't want to leave jury duty to people who think that the LA Police Department framed O.J. for his wife's murder and little old ladies who have nothing better to do.
O Canada, How You Rock
Same-Sex Marriage Advances In Canada
House of Commons Approves Measure
By Doug Struck
Washington Post Foreign Service
Wednesday, June 29, 2005; Page A01
OTTAWA, June 28 -- The House of Commons voted Tuesday to guarantee full marriage rights to same-sex couples, reaffirming Canada's sharp difference with the United States over the issue of gay rights and promising an alternative destination for American gay men and lesbians to be married. [more]
Merry Xmas
I've been thinking a lot lately about how Christians in this country seem to feel that they're under attack, and how to mitigate some of that feeling. I think it's important to maintain a secular government—and given that so many of the founding fathers were deeply religious it's all the more remarkable that we got a secular government at all—but that those of us who are not particularly religious sometimes take things too far when we insist on separation of church and state. I think we who get so annoyed by those who wear their religion on their sleeves—we who object to religion being pushed on us—sometimes fail to realize that we are being just as pushy when we insist that religious symbols be removed from any and all public property and any and all state-, local-, or community-sponsored events. Come on, now. Is it really so offensive to have to look at a cross when you're traveling on a Utah highway? And would you know that the land that the cross was on was publicly owned just from driving by it? Would the cross be less offensive if the land were privately owned?
Anyway, it's something I've been thinking about, because although I am not myself religious, and I am often thoroughly freaked out by the religious right, if I am not mistaken what the Constitution says regarding religion is:
"...no religious Test shall ever be required as a Qualification to any Office or public Trust under the United States." [Article 4, Clause 3]
and
"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof;..." [First Amendment]
and... well, that's it.
I could write quite a bit about how there should be many more mentions of Article 4 in the same breath that "Supreme Court nominee" is mentioned, but what I'm most interested in at the moment is the First Amendment. I beg those of you who want to keep religion out of government to give your friends and neighbors the opportunity to practice their religions when and where they see fit, before they feel so attacked and oppressed that they go nuts.
Note: Although I find the Post article both hilarious and horrifying, I'm actually completely serious about tempering the attacks on religion in this country. Chill out, people. Nobody's trying to make you say anything you don't want to say or believe anything you don't want to believe. Yet.
Non-Binding
From an editorial in today's New York Times about the Bush administration finally agreeing to send delegates to the climate change talks in Montreal, as long as any agreements made were non-binding:
But talk is cheap, and nonbinding talk is even cheaper. And talk alone will not get the developing world into the game. Why should India and China make major sacrifices while the United States, in effect, gets a free ride? The battle against global warming will never be won unless America joins it, urgently and enthusiastically. Our grandchildren will look back with anger and astonishment if we fail to do so.
Hear, hear.
Slow on the Uptake
Does the fact that I'm an idiot make it more likely or less likely that I'll be picked for a jury today? I ask because I'm leaving for the courthouse in 10 minutes, and I need to know whether to arrange for backup childcare.
The evidence that I'm an idiot? Remember how I said (I did say this, right?) that getting down and playing on the floor with Austen instead of trying to get things done around him had made things much better around here? Luckily, I figured that out shortly after his first birthday party. What took me until yesterday to realize was why Austen was making the "pick me up" gesture and then struggling to get back down as soon as I picked him up. Turns out that he wasn't saying "pick me up"; he was saying, "come down here!" So I was right about getting down on the floor making all the difference, but I was still missing the signal for I NEED YOU TO GET DOWN ON THE FLOOR RIGHT NOW.
Judge, I'm too slow to serve on a jury. It will take me forever to understand the evidence, and even then I'll misinterpret it. If you're really lucky, I'll realize my mistake three weeks later, after the defendant has been released and has killed again. Please send me home where I can torture just my child and not eleven other jurors. Thank you.
If Only The Streets Department Cared Enough About Noise Pollution to Budget for a Few of These
Via Derek: Finally, a way to stick it to the neighbor who routinely parks his SUV-with-the-oversensitive-alarm illegally—such that it sticks out into traffic and is jostled by SEPTA buses rumbling by. I've been listening to this ridiculous alarm day after day and night after night for over two years now, and testy notes left under his windshield wipers have done nothing more than set the alarm off an additional time (when I said the alarm was sensitive, I wasn't kidding). I've seriously considered throwing a rock through his window or slashing his tires, which would be more gratifying (and probably more productive) than calling the police or the Streets Department, but I'm too law-abiding to do actual property damage. Oh, that I weren't.
Real, Actual Jury Duty
I reported for Jury Duty at the Criminal Justice Building this morning at 8:15am, my second time doing so since moving to Philadelphia in the fall of 2003. Last time I was juror #18 in a panel of 20 for a civil trial, but after a LOT of sitting around in the courtroom, eight jurors were chosen from among the first 16, and I was sent home.
This time I was juror #8 out of a panel of 40, so I knew that chances were good that unless one of the attorneys had a specific issue with me, I was likely to be chosen to hear the trial. I was indeed, though only two of the first 10 of us were chosen this time. I'm not allowed to talk about the case at all, so I won't, but I will say a couple words about voir dire. First, I was surprised how many people answered Yes to the question "Have you or anyone close to you been the victim of a crime?" I checked Yes because I've had two bicycles and a camera stolen, among other things, and Al had his car broken into outside my apartment in San Francisco. I was horrified to hear several of the other potential jurors report that they or their family members had been robbed at gunpoint, been the victims of home invasions or assaults, or had had friends or relatives who were murdered.
To the question "Have you or someone close to you ever been charged with a crime?", I again had to answer Yes, thanks to that underage possession of alcohol charge when I was 20, to which I pled NoLo and paid a fine. Stupidest thing ever, since the charges would have been dropped had I fought them at all, but I suspect I would have had to check Yes even so. (A couple other jurors reported being charged with possession of marijuana and having had the charges dropped.) I think the record of that "conviction" was expunged after five years—and it's now been nearly 19—so it's not something I mention on applications anymore (unless it's like a serious criminal background check kind of thing).
I kind of expected that there might be others in my situation, so I wasn't surprised to hear about the marijuana possessions of 1977 and "when I was 17". I was surprised, however, to hear one woman say that practically her entire family was currently encarcerated, and several others report that brothers or sisters had been convicted of felonies. One juror checked Yes for "Is there any other reason that you might not be able to serve as a juror?" and said when questioned about it that he was on probation. Another had a pending drug charge, the status of which he was unsure.
Here's what crossed my mind during voir dire: Is this what voir dire is like in all cities? Does everyone (or nearly everyone) check Yes when they're asked if they've been a victim of a crime or been charged with a crime? I have nothing to which I can compare this experience, given that I've only ever been through the voir dire process in one other city (San Francisco), and that was for a civil case. (That one was a whole 'nother kind of weird, since there were like 80 of us being questioned as a group by like 6 different lawyers who wanted to know stuff like "Have you ever been exposed to asbestos?" and "Have you seen the movie 'A Civil Action'?") It did make me feel like perhaps Philadelphia isn't very safe... or at least, parts of it aren't.
All in all, though, I'm excited about being picked for the jury. The case is only expected to last a couple days, so it's not too inconvenient, and I like the idea of doing my part *and* learning a bit about the workings criminal justice system firsthand. I'm a little bummed that one of my fellow panelists wasn't chosen (she was really cool), and that a couple people who were a little too chatty during voir dire were (dude, we don't need to hear the whole story of that time you were robbed at gunpoint; the judge just asked "what kind of crime was it?"), but in any case, it should be interesting...
More on Jury Duty
First, a point of clarification and further explanation. The jury questionnaires (there were two) that I filled out prior to the trial were standard ones; every person who shows up for jury duty in Philadelphia fills them out. There's one page of 16 questions for criminal trials, and a page of nine questions for civil trials. The procedure, which is different in every jurisdiction, goes something like this in Philadelphia:
- As a potential juror, you show up at the Criminal Justice Building. If you're carrying a cell phone or a camera or a tape recorder, you give it to a woman in charge of several narrow file drawers. She puts your electronica into a small compartment and gives you a token with a number on it.
- You stand in line with a gazillion other people, waiting to file through the metal detectors. (It's just like airport security.)
- You hand your jury summons to one of the court officers as you head into the jury assembly room, and you're instructed to take one sheet from pile 1 and one sheet from pile 2. These sheets are the jury questionnaires.
- You get some coffee and a snack, if available (come early for best selection) and desired, from the coffee room, and then find a seat.
- You fill out both pages of the jury questionnaire, leaving the box for Juror No. blank (you don't have a juror number yet).
- Depending on how busy the courts are that day, either the first panel will be called right away and then you'll watch a movie where different judges clarify (or sometimes just repeat) the questions on the questionnaire for you, or vice versa.
- A court officer will call a panel. She'll start by saying how many will be in the panel (e.g., 40) and whether it's a criminal or civil trial, and then she'll read off the names. When you hear your name, you respond loudly, "HERE!", and then she'll give you your juror number.
- You write your juror number on either the criminal or civil sheet, depending on what kind of trial it is.
- When the officer is done reading names, she'll tell you the judge's name and the courtroom number. You write these on the top of your questionnaire; if you're not selected for the jury, and it's before 3:30pm, you'll have to come back to the jury assembly room—and at that point, they'll ask you where you've been. You'll need to give the judge's name and room number.
There's a lot more involved here, including lining up; getting your parking validated, if necessary; being walked up to the courtroom by a court clerk; etc. We ended up standing in the hall outside the courtroom for quite a while as the court clerk and the judge's administrative assistant collected the various copies of our jury questionnaires. The white copy goes to the judge, the blue to the prosecutor, and the yellow to the defense. The juror keeps the pink copy. Once you get to the courtroom, that's when voir dire begins. Every judge and every trial is different; you might be asked additional specific questions by the attorneys or the judge (such as the one Josie mentioned, about whether you're insured by State Farm; or the ones I was asked during voir dire for the asbestos trial, including whether we'd seen the movie A Civil Action), or the judge might ask additional questions about your answers to the standard questions.
In the voir dire for the trial I was on last week, the judge said to each of us who had indicated that we had children, "congratulations, I see you have [n] children. How old are they?" If the juror indicated s/he had adult children, the judge asked if the children worked outside the home (he had to clarify that he meant outside the home they now live in :). This was interesting; the questionnaire had specifically asked our occupations and those of our spouses, but with so many older folks in the jury pool, the occupations of immediate family members were also relevant.
As I mentioned, we were asked to expand on our answers about ourselves or someone close to us being accused of, witness to, or victim of a crime. The judge also repeated his pre-voir dire remarks about the fact that a police officer's testimony should be given no more or no less weight than any other witness' to anyone who answered that they'd be more or less likely to believe a police officer solely because s/he was a police officer; he checked a few questionable answers (did you really mean "no" here?); and he clarified for anyone who answered that they had a religious, moral, or ethical objection that if it was related to the death penalty (all were), there was no need to worry—the death penalty was not on the table here.
The attorneys asked no questions of us, though they may have of the few people who were called back to chambers because they didn't want to answer one or more questions in open court. Our judge was genial—the opposite of stern, I'd say—though he was very clear that it would take an extraordinary hardship to be excused from jury duty. Not being able to find child or elder care would not be considered a hardship (which makes me all the more glad I was not selected back in December 2005, when I didn't have regular childcare available to me).
So anyway... That basically brings us to the point where the jury was actually selected. I didn't notice it until someone mentioned it in the deliberation room, but apparently none of the wives of police officers (and there were four of them, I think) were chosen. The man who wanted to tell the story of his mugging at gunpoint was. The two jurors who'd had marijuana possession charges against them dropped were dismissed; I, with my underage posession of alcohol conviction, was chosen.
As for the trial itself, it was a tricky one. I won't go into all the details here, but it was a drug case; the charges were possession with intent to deliver (which I'd never heard of before) and criminal conspiracy (related to the first charge, since the defendant was allegedly delivering to someone). The witnesses for the prosecution were the policeman in charge of surveillance (the only one who saw the alleged delivery), and all the arresting officers. There was also some evidence entered by stipulation (i.e., agreement between the two counsels); namely, that if called to testify, the two police chemists who tested the evidence would have testified that the drugs were, indeed, drugs.
The witnesses for the defense, including the defendant himself, provided an alternative explanation of why the defendant was at the location; to us (the jury), that alternative explanation was plausible, so the only question was whether the surveillance cop saw what he thought he saw, was mistaken about what he saw, or lied about what he saw. As I said, it was tricky, and in the end, we ended up deciding that we weren't sure enough that the alleged transaction actually happened to convict. I think in a way I sort of epitomized the dilemma: I could see it both ways, and that, to me, seemed like the definition of reasonable doubt. A few people in the room thought the defendant was probably guilty, but that the prosecution hadn't proved the case; I honestly didn't know whether he was guilty or not. Either way, I hope the defendant took the Not Guilty verdict as an opportunity to start fresh and stay out of trouble.
The deliberations themselves were interesting; I saw it as my responsibility (even though I wasn't forewoman) to keep everyone focused. It's easy to get sidetracked on details that don't matter, especially when people make analogies to their personal experience. At times it must have seemed like I thought the defendant was definitely guilty, but what I was trying to do was make sure that all the evidence on which the case hinged was examined in enough detail that each juror could say either "that's enough for me" or "that ISN'T enough for me." In the end, obviously, we decided that it wasn't enough.
I think the most interesting part of the deliberations for me was in trying to get a point across regarding the difference between saying that you think a witness is mistaken versus saying you think he's lying. No one wanted to call the witness a liar, which seemed like a slur, but for the scenario being discussed to have occurred, the witness *had* to be lying. It took about four tries, but finally it clicked with the juror with whom I was debating, and it was kind of a breakthrough. I think it's important to be as honest with yourself as possible about why you think the way you do, so that you can communicate this to your fellow jurors. You may agree on specific points for different reasons, and I think the reasons should be out on the table.
I also think I would have enjoyed facilitating the deliberations a lot more if I didn't have to vote myself. I liked probing each question and point of view, challenging people to examine their motives as well as the evidence, but in the end it made it harder for me to sort out how *I* felt about the whole thing.
The judge came back to talk to us after the verdict was read in court, and in addition to thanking us for our service, he let us ask him questions. (He also had one for us: Namely, was the question we sent out—and that was answered in open court after the judge and counsel returned from lunch—the deciding factor? We told him that it was one factor, but not the only one; we were almost done deliberating by the time the answer came, and the answer just sort of confirmed in our minds the direction we were already headed. The reason he was curious? Apparently we all nodded when the answer was given. :) The only question I had was to whom the assistant D.A. was apologizing when he turned toward the gallery, shrugged, and mouthed, "Sorry." The judge said that one of the policemen who testified was sitting back there (I hadn't seen him).
The forewoman asked if the judge could ask the prosecutor and police for more evidence next time. He laughed and said that in drug cases it's often a case of one person's word against another, and that it's the jury's job to determine who's telling the truth, and whether the Commonwealth has proved its case beyond a reasonable doubt. Although I certainly would have appreciated more to go on, I did not share the forewoman's concern; not every piece of evidence can be corroborated, and it was our job to determine the truthfulness/accuracy and weight of each piece. I don't think a defendant should be found not guilty just because there's only one eyewitness account, and I do wonder if some people voted not guilty for this reason (several folks wanted to know why the surveillance officer did not take photographs or video of the incident and seemed reluctant to convict in the absence of such evidence). My reason was that I had a hard time judging the veracity of the eyewitness account, especially when weighed against the alternative scenario.
In any case, the judge encouraged us not to lose sleep over our verdict (something he said he tells juries that convict, too). More specifically, we were not to agonize over any niggling concerns that the defendant might, indeed, be guilty, or that we were contributing to the drug problems in Philadelphia by turning him loose. (If it's any comfort at all to those who thought he was guilty, I'd add: the drugs recovered—and there *were* drugs recovered from two non-defendants who were alleged both to have received them from our defendant and to have been observed selling other drugs—were confiscated. Those will not be returning to the street along with our defendant.) Despite this instruction from the judge, I have, of course, been agonizing over the details of the case and the deliberations ever since. I have not lost sleep, however, which in the end was my gut-check for deciding to vote not guilty: I knew I could sleep if I did.
Michael Pollan on the Farm Bill: Don't Be Fooled Again
Please, please go read You Are What You Grow in the New York Times Magazine. Some of its contents will be familiar to anyone who's read the absorbing, eye-opening The Omnivore's Dilemma, but it's more specifically about the farm bill—which Pollan argues should be called the food bill instead. An excerpt:
If the quintennial antidrama of the “farm bill debate” holds true to form this year, a handful of farm-state legislators will thrash out the mind-numbing details behind closed doors, with virtually nobody else, either in Congress or in the media, paying much attention. Why? Because most of us assume that, true to its name, the farm bill is about “farming,” an increasingly quaint activity that involves no one we know and in which few of us think we have a stake.
Au contraire, my friends who eat. Au contraire.
Save the Free Library
To be honest, I've sort of been ignoring the budget impasse that's been plaguing our Pennsylvania state government. I've been through several of these before in other states (and I remember well a couple federal ones), and everything always turns out OK in the end. There's partisan bickering, a few services that don't affect me shut down temporarily, and every public television and radio station in the state starts freaking out. It's annoying, but the effects are usually limited, and eventually a budget passes.
This time, apparently, it's worse than all that. This budget bickering has gone on so long that services that DO affect me are starting to shut down. I wasn't *too* worried when the PBS station to which I gave a substantial portion of a windfall I received earlier this year called last night to ask for more money; as mentioned above, public tv and radio are usually the first ones to cry out in pain. (Sometimes they cry so often it's hard to tell whether the pain is real.)
This morning, however, I discovered this: All Free Library of Philadelphia Branch, Regional and Central Libraries Closed Effective Close of Business October 2, 2009
At first glance, it might sound like the usual public television "they're going to take away Big Bird!" hyperbole. Our nanny thought it was a joke. It's not. Yes, the closure won't take place until October 2, and yes, it will only happen if the legislators in Harrisburg continue to fail to pass a state budget, but the effects will be felt sooner than that—and given how long the budget negotiations have already dragged on, the threat of Philadelphia's Free Public Library closing is absolutely real.
If you live in Pennsylvania, please contact your state senator and state representative and ask them to act with all possible speed to pass a state budget. Here's the letter I sent to my senator, Larry Farnese, and (with slight modifications) my representative, Babette Josephs.
PLEASE PLEASE do whatever you can to get a state budget passed ASAP. My four-and-a-half year-old son is an early reader and an avid consumer of Free Library books and services. His twice-weekly visits to the library have fostered his independence and confidence in addition to his reading skills. We want him out and about and interacting with the community, not just sitting in his room at home. We can afford to buy him books if the library closes, but honestly, we'd rather pay more taxes to keep the libraries open than use that same money to buy books for our child's exclusive use. Libraries do so much more for our community than an endless supply of books could do for a single child.
Please be a voice for our kid, our libraries, and our district. Please act in the spirit of cooperation and compromise, and encourage your fellow Senators and House colleagues to do the same.
Sincerely,
Lori Hylan-Cho
These Things Weigh on Me
A conversation I just had with my husband:
lorihc [2:48 PM]
uploaded an image: new threadless design
lorihc [2:48 PM] this is really cute, and I get the joke, but I couldn't wear it
al [2:48 PM] :slightly_smiling_face:
lorihc [2:48 PM] makes me too sad
[2:49] sad for the lollypop?
lorihc [2:49 PM] yeah, for both of them
[2:49] let them play!
al [2:49 PM] :slightly_smiling_face:
[2:49] y
lorihc [2:49 PM] also makes me think of parents who force their prejudices on their kids
[2:49] racism etc.
al [2:49 PM] y
[2:50] it's not the lollypop's fault that he is a sugary treat
lorihc [2:50 PM] yeah
[2:50] I get what they're going for: he's a bad influence
[2:51] if the lollipop were smoking or something, I could see it
[2:51] but they're playing with blocks!
al [2:51 PM] y