Justice (Part Two)

There are many philosophic interpretations for justice. I’m schooled in a selection of them, having earned a secondary degree in philosophy during my undergrad studies at California State University Chico.

Chico is another small-town white enclave in Northern California, for those of you not in the know, most famous for its party school rankings in Playboy and that its boroughs sometimes hosted the 49’ers summer training camps. I chucked horseshoes once with a few of that ’89 dream team, Jerry Rice and Roger Craig and Ronnie Lott, at a joint called Scotty’s Landing on the banks of the Sacramento river.

Man, we were drunk.

I smoked a whole lotta weed in Chico, but I did get an above average schooling there, and finished a double major in psychology and philosophy. I was going on to graduate levels, either in San Diego or Berkeley. Life intervened, as life does sometimes. Lest you think I’m all about the book smarts, it ain’t so. One day of life taught me more than 20 odd years of academia. I’m nonpartisan when it comes to knowing your shit. I couldn’t care less if you have an Ivy League doctorate or if you’re schooled in street hard knocks. It’s all good if whatever you’ve figured out through the course of your growth has allowed you to be open to change.

By the by, forget about bringing that common sense counterpoint shit to the table. Everybody’s got common sense, for fuck’s sake, if they can stand upright or drive a car or purchase a data plan from their cell carrier.

Common sense is universal.

Uncommon sense?

Now that’s the good stuff, if you can find it.

Mysterious bugger, that one. It knows where to hide.