I got this message a few minutes ago and nearly spit up my coffee.
Philadelphia Inquirer Philadelphia Daily News picked up a story on an Open Carry dinner that’s scheduled to be held at an Applebee’s in Ridley Township.
Now, these particular guys have been active on our neighborhood message board for quite some time now, acting the part of the rabble rousers. A bit ago, they posted an open invitation for us to join them this open carry convention held at the king of restaurants.
I whole-heartedly support gun owners’ rights – including the right to open carry in Philadelphia (irrespective of the wisdom of that decision). But this venue choice is atrocious. Really, of all the great restaurants we have in the area, they choose to assemble a group of guys who feel the need to wear their holstered penises on their hip for all to see at a family restaurant whose claims to fame are 2 for $20 dinners and half-price appetizers after 9?
I posted this in response:
Who knew that my rhetorical eloquence would be picked up this morning by the Inquirer? (At least now I won’t have to let Applebee’s know how I feel on their Yelp page).
H/T @CharlesThomas for letting me know about this at all.
Shame on you Applebee’s for wanting to track my location when I visited your website.
Extra kudos to Stephanie Farr for including this line: “Fiorino, who used a forum on the website for the Pennsylvania Firearm Owners Association to coordinate the meet-up, said on the forum that he’s shooting for getting to the restaurant about 5:30 p.m.” Ah, puns.
The DA in court this morning looked really familiar, but I couldn’t recall why. Was it a bar association happy hour? Nah, more likely I’d just seen her in Court before, and my sleep-deprived brain was playing tricks on me.
I perked up. “Yes?”
“I knew I recognized you at the last listing. We worked at Starbucks together a while ago before I went off to college.”
And it came back to me. I was this DA’s supervisor back when I worked at Starbucks in college – seven years ago, at least. Back then we were making venti vanilla non-fat no-foam extra hot lattes for soccer moms and the idle upper-middle class. I was making sure she came to work on time and her till was balanced at the end of the shift. Now, here we were, arguing over my client’s liberty.
Two Starbucks lawyers duking it out like real attorneys. Brian Tannebaum would be proud.
“You’ve got less than a twenty percent chance of winning. I’ve done a bunch of these in the counties. Trust me, you’re screwed. They usually just want your guys to plead to a summary offense, anyway…” Jason said.
I was driving west on Route 30, talking to Jason on my cell phone about whether a legal argument had any weight.
“That’s such bullshit. Plus, I think I have a loophole because there’s some case law… Shit! Jason, I’ll have to call you back… I’m getting pulled over…”
Suddenly there were red and blue sirens behind me. I knew I was about to get my first speeding ticket out in the middle of nowhere.
“Oh Jordan, you’re such a mess…” Jason said, laughing. Jason was a reluctant solo practitioner with a little under 10 years in, always willing to lend me an ear when I needed to discuss something. Jason had lost a high paid legal job five years ago after going through a nasty divorce. Jason opened up his own shop while trying to find another job, but that job would never materialize. I could never tell if Jason was just bored or felt bad for me, but either way he was always willing to take my calls and let me bounce ideas off him. Jason was an excellent, seasoned lawyer who knew what he was talking about, even though he didn’t like solo practice. However, our call would have to wait…
Step 1: Pin lots of sweet cat pictures
Step 2: ???????
Step 3: PROFIT! STRAIGHT CASH, HOMIE!
My wife will be so pleased.