Chelsea Lucas

2^nd Hour

December 11^th, 2006

Since America became a freestanding country, the government officials have relied on a single document to clarify how to regulate and restrict its citizens. From the guidelines of Presidency to the right of freedom, the Constitution has been the source of wisdom to Supreme Court Judges and Senators alike. However, the Constitution is not crystal and, depending on how it is interpreted, it can be enforced in many different ways. One of the issues that’s conditions are still somewhat vague is the death penalty. The Constitution does not say if the punishment is unconstitutional (like cruel and unusual), so it is legal, but it must be regulated. The only way to throughly understand and enforce the law is to for the Supreme Court to compare specific circumstances of cases and fine tune the punishment based off the results.

The death penalty is legal in the United States but, under certain circumstances, it can be considered ‘unconstitutional’, so therefore, illegal. Although it is legal, not all states have it but the ones who do, have different crimes punishable by death. Most states require murder charges but some have crimes such as kidnaping and bodily harm that can be punished by death. The death penalty was mainly influenced by Britain, and therefore, carried over to colonial American. In the earlier years, the fifth, eighth and fourteenth amendment were interpreted as permitting the death penalty. It was not heavily regulated and less severe crimes were punishable by death. After the 1960's, however, people started to question the death penalty and wonder if it was cruel and unusual punishment. It was then that the death penalty got it’s fine tuning.

The Constitution clearly says ‘No cruel and unusual punishment’ and guarantees people their basic rights. But not everyone’s idea of ‘cruel and unusual’ is the same. It is then up to the Supreme Court to decide is someone’s situation falls into that category. In the court case, Jurek versus North Carolina, Jurek argued that his conviction for murder and the implementation of the death penalty was cruel, unusual and unconstitutional. The Court decided, however, that it was constitutional because the system by which he was convicted. In Texas, the juries focus the attention on all the details of the case including the criminal’s character and unique circumstances. The juries must also consider why they should or should not impose the death penalty.

It is clear that the Supreme Court, as well as the state’s, judges need to look at all cases separately and consider all the circumstances. In Woodson versus North Carolina, Woodson was convicted of first degree murder and was to be punished by death because the punishment for first degree murder, in North Carolina, was death. Woodson argued that this was unconstitutional and made the Supreme Court question if the mandatory death penalty violated the 8^th and 14^th amendments. After the judges reviewed the case, they found three things wrong with that specific law, the first being that the law "depart[ed] markedly from contemporary standards" and the history record showed that the public opposed mandatory death sentences. The second was the fact that there were no standards to guide jury members in exercising their power to exterminate first degree murderers. The last; with this law, juries didn’t look at the individual character, nor the past record of the defendant before they enforced the death penalty.

The death penalty can not have simple guidelines and regulations because there are too many possible scenarios and circumstances that could sway the legitimacy of it. If the death penalty is legal, it should be enforced with the upmost of care and concern, with no bit of information or detail of the case unclear. In order to make sure that the penalty is being enforced properly and with regard to all details, each specific case must be looked at individually and thoroughly (unlike the courts in North Carolina). If Supreme Court or State judges do not understand or consider every aspect of the case, it should not be a form of punishment. The punishment puts the lives of one human beings into the hands of another and if the judge or juries responsible for the decision do not contemplate or rationalize their decision, the opinion of the penalty should be no more.

Controversy surrounds the issue of the death penalty, and it’s no wonder why. It seems somewhat foolish to allow a stranger to determine when another human’s life to end, especially if there is a chance that the stranger just wants to rush through the decision because of personal matters or lack of interest in the case. It is hard to determine the mentality of the judges when it is decided that the punishment will be death. It could make the defendant wonder if it was because the judges or juries actually thought that death was deserved or if it was for a different, less meaningful reason, like the urge to leave court. Perhaps if it was certain that those in charge were to engulf themself into the case and really, surely think about what was deserved, there would not be any need for restrictions on the death penalty.

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IGNORE THIS:

Ooc || Okaaaay. See the word ‘advanced’ in the title? It means something. It means

//advanced//. If you’re not advanced, leave my board. *can not stress the meaning of advanced enough* Seeing as this is an ADVANCED rp, you should have no problem with me not typing up the rules. (Trust me, children, it’s a waste of my time and yours.). {...}

Ooc || However, I will say this, I have a tendency to judge a person by their font. x___x I know, I’m a horrible person. So if your font is one size bigger than mine, in a font that’s hard to read or your colors burn my eyes, please change it now. {...}

Ooc || I also have a tendency to be a very blunt person. First impression is key with me. After others come, I will post my very, //very// watered down post and don’t, do not, DO NOT, interrupt anyone’s post. I get confused. Majorly. {...}

Ooc || Though //I// am very blunt, I am very subtle in my role playing. Read between the lines, kids. This isn’t a slash, but viewer discretion IS advised. {...}

Ooc || About my role play: ( I say MY because I have never seen it before. I know, it’s genius but back off, it’s mine. *growl*)

This is pretty much a distorted nursery rhymes rp. That’s it, plain and simple, as it says in the title. ‘Distorted’ meaning...eh...messed up. A lot. My white weasel who goes pop, named Caine (Har har, props if you get that), is a.... ‘salesman’, so to speak. {...}

Ooc || Try not to make all the characters insane, it bothers me. Caine is sane, be like him. The last time I did this role play EVERYONE (but Caine) cackled and it started to ruffle his fur. I realize that is somewhat difficult seeing as it is a DISTORTED role play, but I like proposing challenges, so up the creativity. {...}

Ooc || With THAT all said, time to waaiit.

AND For those of you who have done this role play with me before, it’s still the same introduction. Get over it. I’m lazy. xD {done}

"Half a pound of tuppenny rice.

Half a pound of treacle.

That’s the way the money goes.

Pop goes the weasel."

He began his song gently, innocently. As if he was his old self, telling his story of the way money goes to the child who once owned his book. His voice floated down the darkened street in small spirals. Not because it was particularly cold out, but because of the cancer stick he held in his left hand.{...}

His old black top hat (complete with the black and white striped strip, of course) was tilted slightly so it hid the left half of his furry face, making him give off an even more uncomfortable vibe as he stood beneath the single street lamp outside of The Eagle, the town’s local liquor store. He took another drag before dropping the butt onto the ground and snuffing it with the nose of his black combat boot.{...}

"Half a pound of her0ine.

Half a pound treacle.

That’s the way the story goes.

Out comes the evil."

His voice sounded much eerier now as he leaned against the lamp post. He re-adjusted his black and white striped bow tie and smiled his signature sneaky smile known throughout the city.{...}

It would be so cool if some freaky techno music started to play in the background right now. But none did, so he twisted his face into a frown. And he was hoping to get some theme-setting music, too. Seems like he’d have to make his own. He began to sing his demented song in his dark voice again, half hoping some stupid kid would come stumbling around his parts drunk so he could scare the Hell out of him.{...}

"Hey kid, wanna buy some x?" It rolled off the tongue so easily.

Tuppenny rice and treacle wasn’t all he had on him. He practiced his line a few times to the empty street.

"...I can get some good stuff for you, but it’ll cost a bit more...." In all actuality, he //could// get you the good stuff. But he never would. He’d hoard it all for himself and sell you the cheap stuff for double. But that was Caine for you. You never could trust that damn weasel.{...}

"C’mon kid, you don’t find stuff like //this// everyday." He opened his black suit jacket to expose the checkered insides with about 30 pockets full of little jars, prescription pill bottles and bags. Tranquilizer pills, Vicaden, No- Doz, you name it, he had it. He was a walking pharmacy, in the lone street. But he wasn’t always like this, the pharmacy way, that is. He was always sneaky. {...}"

Once upon a time, he was a nice little weasel who bought tuppenny rice everyday for his mum. But then one day he went down the gutter. Literally. The irresponsible little twit that owned his book dropped him into it. Along with the rest of the characters. But hey, that was life. Things happen. People change. Books get ruined. {...}

The weasel rubbed his beady black eyes. He needed somebody to rip off. Preferably that stupid egg that habitually fell off the wall. What an idiot. He sold that kid a bag of lawn clippings for 10 pounds and bottle of aspirin for 30 American dollars. And those are just two examples. Caine didn’t actually think he’d pull it off, but that’s what you get when you do business with an egg who’s been dropped one too many times and can never be fixed. {d}

Currently Listening London Calling By The Clash see related

T-heh yeah, so this weekend I went to this AWESOMELY HUGE hick-party and got my dick sucked. I was too drunk to remember what the bitch's name was, but she was REALLY hot...even though I don't remember what she looked like...

BELIEVE WHAT YOU WANT.

Props to anyone who knows exactly what I mean.

Currently Listening Mediocre Generica By Leftöver Crack see related

Let's just say, if Monopoly IS just a scaled down version of life and the people who are sucessful in the game are sucessful in the real world, I am totally going to kick life's ass twice.

Yes, well, I went to a "for real haunted house" tonight. It was scary shit.

Part One:

Aparently, as lengend goes (but internet contradicts), a man killed his wife and two children for no reason. Then got away. One of the "kids" was a Pulaski high school student and the other was a little boy. So, Lance and I went there and I freaked out. Just a little. Because we are in the middle of bumfuck Little Saumico in some run-down abandoned shithouse with only a flashlight and cellphone as our form of protection. So we looked around a bit, deciding to go upstairs, even after the front door magically closed behind us.

When we get "upstairs", which is pretty much a four by four foot square and then two doors on either side, we, meaning Lance, decide to go into the room to our right. Door number one. It was, way beyond obviously, one of the kids' rooms. So once he got bored with that, he moved onto Door number two.

Aside: Now, I know there are certain things in certain places for certain reasons, and on this door, there was a certain lock on the FUCKING OUTSIDE. Not one of those pussy as push in locks you find in bathrooms, but the ones you find on freezers and sheds, you know, where one part swings open kind of and the other part is attached to the doorframe. Yes, one of those kind of locks. On the out fucking side of the door. It was about that time I *ahem* lost my cool. But let me tell you what, I was not going into that room without some beer and another cigarette. So we, meaning I, stormed down the stairs and went to the front door. But oh, sad, it didn't open. Lance tried a few times to open the door and was like "Oh gee, it's stuck."  I apologized and said I wasn't going to fucking stay in there any longer and swung the door full force open by the broken window in it. I had glass in my hand but I honestly didn't give a shit. So we rode happily home while I tried many times to light my cigarette.

Part Two:

After my first "adventure" in the house (and a few cigarettes plus some of my 40), I concluded I couldn't get enough of it. So I decided, when Heather and Kelly got to Lance's house that we were all going. On the way back to the lovely house, Lance started saying all this shit he *somehow* knew about the house, like the little boy's name was Brock and he was 8 and their last name was Hennings. After we arrive there, I'm feeling a tad bit better because at least there are other people to share my pain. So we decided to go in the basement, around the ground level and upstairs. There wasn't much to look at; broken glass, old toys, insulation bags, you know. Then we got to the room with the lock. Lance was the first, as always the male should be, and said, "OH MY GOD." like a bitch to freak us out. I was next. It looked like the family had all their shit piled into this room. We looked around for a bit and I found this wicked awesome white striped shirt that was the little boy's. I promised him I would never take it and set it back down. We searched a bit more and then left the premises: end of story. No jumpy outy things, no little boy's faces. Just a happy exit.

Epilogue: Remember when I said I found a wicked awesome shirt? Remember that? Yeah, well, Kelly took that shirt. And Heather took another shirt. I nearly threw up when they did. I mean, seriously, how can you //take// a "murdered child's" clothes? It's fucking with something beyond you. Literally. I hope the kid haunts their asses until they take his shit back....