Judge Dale Cohen Broward County Courthouse

February 27, 2010

Judge Dale Cohen
Broward County Courthouse
201 SE 6th Street
Fort Lauderdale, Florida 33301

RE: “Morons. I’m surrounded by morons!”

Judge Cohen,

Can we stipulate to the following?

#1 – You are a Judge
#2 – Your wife, Mardi Anne Levey Cohen, wants to be a Judge.
#3 – You want your wife to be a Judge.
#4 – To further her campaign you called her as a witness at a hearing in re your recusal from a matter before you.
#5 – The above doesn’t pass the bag test.

Of the many common traits of the Broward County Judiciary the one which always rises to the top, a la the turd in the punch bowl, is that they are all descended from MoaHA. MoaHA is short for Mother of all Horses’ Asses. MoaHA is the spawn of Gorgons.

The other common genetic marker here is that when someone puts on a black robe and gets a gavel he is enveloped not in a idyllic quest to capture the emanations and penumbras of justice but rather in a purple haze known as “non-malodorous fecal matter”. If you need a translation send a SASE.

The hi-jinks of the Broward County Judiciary are too many to do justice to in this forum. Their profligacy is legendary: A Judge owing a bail bondsman more than $100,000; a Judge soliciting sports tickets from attorneys appearing before him was bad enough but then he scalped them; a Judge asking lawyers before him to buy Girl Scout cookies from his granddaughter; a Judge trying to play hide the salami with the female clerk; a Judge so dumb he thought that Manual Labor was an abogado; a Judge recusing himself on the first day of a trial about $30,000,000 because of a letter that I wrote him…God’s Holy Trousers but it is the stuff of afternoon TV!

In case you are not familiar with the “bag test” it is a testing device for which we can safely say that “the science is settled”.



Get a paper bag. [Go Green!]

Put my letter and the various news stories about your attempts at a somewhat late Valentine’s Day present – A black robe, a gavel, and a life time job beats the Hell out of roses, doesn’t it? – in the bag

Tape the bag shut.

Put the bag under your desk.

Wait 24 hours.

Open the bag and stick your head in. [My advice would be to keep another bag handy for your retching.]

Consign the bag to Gehenna via an environmentally sensitive Haz-Mat team.

There are several important lessons to be garnered from this moral and ethical train wreck.

A – Having one’s ass wrapped in black doesn’t make you a Judge.
B – I am sure your wife is happy you didn’t run a whore house.

I am particularly exorcized about this for personal reasons.

My son is a member of the Bar in 3 states. Florida is not one of them, Deo Gracias. His first court appearance was when he was 6 years old. I brought him to the courtroom where a Judge, his grandfather, my father, was sending people to jail. It was a solemn moment. His wife, my mother, was not in the courtroom. Hens would lay cube shaped Deviled eggs before my father would do what you did.

I take back my introduction. What you did wasn’t moronic. It was worse. You assumed either that no one was watching or nobody cared. For this you are proclaimed

HORSE’S ASS OF THE WEEK.

You are in contention for the highest honor I can bestow.

SMARMY BASTARD OF THE YEAR.

I don’t know what this makes your wife but she probably she is probably out of the running for the Mother Teresa award.

Your punishment, your metaphorical punishment so don’t send your bailiffs after me, is to be strapped to a horse facing his – you guessd it! – ass. The horse will be tethered in front of the courthouse for one week. Citizens will pay $1 to throw pies at you. For $5 they will be allowed to throw flaming bags of cat scat at you.

All moneys will go into a special fund. The money will be used to retrofit any court room that you are in with a special device. Said device will grab you whenever you do or say something so egregiously dumb or so offensive to the common weal that passersby find that their hair hurts. You will be defenestrated from the nearest available window on the highest floor.

[There may be many judges in line. Don’t worry. I have influence. Since this is a Stimulus “shovel ready” project we will open as many windows as is necessary. If we assign one tosser to each Broward Judge the economy will be turned around in about 6 weeks.]

You will be flung high enough for the public address system to proclaim loudly

SIC SEMPER HORSES’ ASSES

before you hit the ground.

Alas, but your wife will have to continue her quest for black robes without you.

“Such stupidity, sir, is not found in nature.”




Kevin Smith