"Friends,"** the jury's wise decision to declare Chad at Alltel guilty of Gross Negligence and Misuse of Consensual Geometric Practices within the Wireless Realm has reaffirmed my belief that America is still a place where morals and decency still reign supreme. Where good, old-fashioned values are still the law of the land. Where the principles of our forefathers have not yet genuflected before the altar of the almighty dollar, to be bought and sold by the lowest common denominator's highest bidder.

And now, without further ado, let's divvy up the damages!

Judge Mead has awarded the People Against My Circle Foundation the sum of $2.53, which, when divided evenly among our class-action litigants, bestows upon each member a total of 0.3 cents. Deducting each member's share of the legal costs from that sum means that each of you owes me $2,364.28. My attorney will be contacting each member individually to arrange for payment, but don't sweat the details of all that paperwork and bean-countery now, it's time to celebrate! You will have at least 30 days to remit payment before I start sending out subpoenas, so let the champagne corks fly!***

On behalf of People Against My Circle Foundation, this is Edward Maxwell Von Houten saying you're welcome!

*No, I absolutely will not hug you, even though my head is giddy with the sweet fumes of litigious satisfaction.

***Aim champagne bottle away from face. I, Edward Maxwell Von Houten, shall not be held liable for any cork-related injuries.

You see, I still have faith in the America of my forefathers, a land of law, order, and good old-fashioned values. A land where Truth and Justice are not just meaningless words to be capitalized for emphasis. When we are bombarded day in and day out with the nauseating images of our popular culture on the television, internets and now even mobile phones, it is often hard to remember that not every citizen of this land is a fat, lazy, ignorant, pimply-faced dullard interested only in hair products, crunchy snacks, and the latest electronic noisemaker. I know for a fact that there are at least several dozen of you out there in this great nation--those members of my class-action suit--who do not fall into this category. And it is my unflappable conviction that there are at least 12 more people out there who are not a complete waste of carbon molecules--those paragons of our society comprising the jury, who will hand us the carved turkey of victory on the silver platter of justice!

I'm sure there are a few brain-dead automatons out there who don't fully grasp the dire global consequences of being able to call whomever one pleases for free, no matter what network those people are on. Ninnies who are actually for My Circle. Harebrained-yet-vocal friends of Chad who could potentially sway the jury vote against us. But "Friends,"** this is when we must trust natural selection to take its course, for surely some beeping, shiny object will pop up, distracting them long enough for "the munchies" to set in, by which time they'll have completely forgotten to register for jury duty.

So, if you're one of Chad's friends who's inadvertently wandered in and phonetically sounded out enough words to actually reach the end of this blog... what's that near the top of your screen? Is that a dancing monkey? Go ahead and punch it, you can win a prize!

*No, I will not water your plants while you're out of town. We're not friends like that.

**Seriously. Just water them really well before you leave, I'm sure they'll be fine.

Now, before you go accusing me of being prejudiced, it's not because of his orange skin, mind you--one of my Friends* from a previous case, Melaninally-Challenged Americans v. TAN-acious Sunless Creme, Inc., was as hard-working and spirited a soul as you'd ever care to meet, despite having the unfortunately permanent complexion of a baked yam. No, Jack's "true colors" were shown last week in a drunken mess all over a strange woman's bathroom floor (see Courtroom, 7/19, Prosecution Pt. 2), and his colors ran just as true today as he refused to answer any of my attorney's questions in plain English. I'm sorry, but Judge Mead was right this time--speaking in that slang-filled squeaky-talk may be good enough for the gang of street punks in Chad's Circle, but not in a court of law.

It's just sad to see what being "jumped-in" to one of these Circles can entail: a one-way ticket to the Big House. For his/its sake, I just hope Jack soon learns how to say, "The bottom bunk is all yours, sir!"

*"Friend" in the "let's share a lawsuit" sense, not the "let's share a kidney" sense. And no, I don't want you to sign my yearbook.

And on a personal side note to our fellow litigants, please be advised that agreeing to go on a date with someone--or conversely, not specifically refusing to go on said date--is a legally binding oral contract, the breaking of which may lead to damages, especially if the Plaintiff had to cancel his plans and pay the recording studio a hefty cancellation fee!

Another free legal tip from your "friend"* Edward Maxwell Von Houten--you're welcome!

*Again, by "friend" I mean "fellow class-action litigant." Please do not email me to ask if I can watch your kids or help you move.

As she took the stand, she glowed with a radiance I have not seen since Carol Lombard's finest hour. Class and dignity positively oozed out of her like the tube of ointment I'd rubbed on my reconstructed hip this morning. Before she even said a word, I could tell this was a woman who knew the difference between a runcible spoon and a sardine fork. As she spoke, I was transfixed, my eyes languorously drifting from her passionately pursed lips to the lovely, jiggling wattle beneath her pearl necklace, all the way down to the constellations of liver spots on her dainty wrists…could that be the Big Dipper, poised to dunk itself right into my heart? Even the mink stole lovingly draped around her neck seemed to beckon me with its "come hither" eyes.

After Madame Cadieux was unceremoniously removed from the courtroom by a judge who cannot appreciate class when he sees it, I seized on my chance to woo her during recess. I introduced myself and, risking severe facial cramping, pressed my lips together to kiss her lovely hand. I sympathized with her betrayal of trust at the hands of her slanderous ex-friend Cat, and asked if I could comfort her over an early-bird steak dinner. She replied that she would be busy washing her hair that night--quite the reasonable evening's agenda for a woman as comely as herself, I thought. Then it hit me: Ah, Von Houten you fool, 'tis the exquisitely choreographed, give-and-take dance of love! She was playing hard-to-get, and so I volleyed right back with a request for tomorrow night instead. Once I heard the "Uhh," cascade from her beautiful lips, I knew she was mine. "Your place. 4:30 tomorrow evening," I proclaimed. She then exclaimed, "Oh my goodness, what's that behind you?" I turned and saw nothing, then turned around to find her gone, like the delicious mystery she is, presumably to get a head start on her preparations for tomorrow night's festivities. I headed back to the courtroom, my head abuzz with anticipation.

After Madame Cadieux's testimony, I must admit I had a hard time paying attention once Cat took the stand. Although hordes of salivating newshounds sat in rapt attention, I saw nothing more than another fly-by-night, faceless wannabe. Madame Cadieux is much better off without Cat and her nefarious Circle. As will be the rest of the world, once my attorney makes a couple more slam-dunks--if you will excuse the vulgar sports metaphor--on the witness stand as he did today. And with any luck, Madame Cadieux will be sitting on top of this My Circle-free world with me, side by side. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to have my spats laundered and pressed...

Now, I'm sure some of you out there are aware of my stance on illicit substances, if you've at all been following my case to criminalize B6 (widely regarded as a "gateway" vitamin), so you can well imagine my horror at Mr. Trench's tale. My attorney had warned me beforehand that it wouldn't be pretty, but even the extra spoonful of nerve tonic I took with my bowl of prune bran this morning didn't prepare me for what I actually heard in court today. And for Mr. Trench to jump out of the dependency frying pan right into the stereo-singalong fire like that…tsk, tsk. It's sad, really. I'm sorry, folks, but Pythagoras was wrong--Circles are just no darned good to anyone.

I just thank the Founding Fathers' ghosts that His Honor had the common decency to seal the karaoke tape from public disclosure, as unleashing that kind of atrocity would be a crime against humanity indeed. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to hold a candlelight vigil for the souls of the non-hearing-impaired people who were in that courtroom today…until next week, keep fighting the good fight, people!

But "friends," when I entered the courtroom this morning and saw Chad shrugging through his innocent little schoolboy act, I could feel my pride shrivel into a crusty, wrinkled, salty mass, like...well, like yesterday's hot dog. How could I possibly be from the same great nation as this degenerate little twerp? How could I reconcile my respect for good old-fashioned American law and order with Chad's desire to turn the US of A into a teeming mass of anarchic zombies? Then I remembered that part of what makes this nation great is that it allows morons like Chad to think whatever ridiculous notions they desire, at least until those notions are struck down by me in a court of law. The swelling returned.

The swelling went down slightly again as the misguided citizen calling himself "V" took the stand, but American pride rushed into me once again in a throbbing, turgid mass as my attorney called the number listed in V's phone records. Never before had the dangers of My Circle's insidious scheme of inter-network fraternization been more clearly or plainly illustrated as when Chad's phone erupted in that ridiculous ringtone. Rather than the usual unsavory connotations the song's lewd solicitation left in my mind, "Come and Get Your Love" now sounded like a victory march and Chad's swan song, all rolled into one. If I still had cartilage in my knees, I would have danced in that courtroom.

About midway through V's testimony, I realized that the swelling sensation I'd been feeling had actually been caused by a boil on the back of my neck, but this did not diminish my enthusiasm one bit. And although I'll probably have to go to the doctor and have it lanced, no such deflation will befall my pride in what makes America great: suing the pants (or jumpsuit and horn-rimmed spectacles, if necessary) off someone until you get your own way. Join the People Against My Circle Foundation, and YOU can get my own way, too!

"Friends," right now I feel angry. Angry that this My Circle thing has been allowed to go on as long as it has. With the trial starting today, however, I feel…slightly less angry. Imagining the prospect of a decisive court victory left me with a strange feeling approaching excitement, but then luckily my 9:30 pill kicked in and that feeling went away.

I have little doubt that this trial will put me through the wringer, running the gamut from angry, to somewhat-less angry, to extremely angry, and all the dramatic shades of emotion in between. Don't worry, though, I'll keep you posted, just as my attorney says you wish to be. You're welcome!

5/28/2006: Chad at Alltel is seen on television, bowling with friends from other wireless networks. The dire global ramifications of such "friendships" are immediately clear.

5/29/2006: I call my attorney, T.R. DeBano, explain the potential disaster to him, and ask if I have a case. He asks if I'll be paying him on contingency or up-front. After wiring him a five-figure retainer advance, he agrees that I have excellent grounds for a class-action lawsuit.

6/01/2006: I settle on the name for our organization, after my focus group reacts less-than-positively to "Foundation of People Against My Circle," "Against My Circle Are People Founded," and "Chad Must Die, Inc."

6/19/2006: Chad served with subpoena.

6/30/2006: PAMCF.com is launched, giving focus and meaning to your heretofore pointless existence. You're welcome!