Friday, July 15, 2016

A Reasonable Crime

I don't often relate to criminal activity, which is probably one of the reasons I have been able to remain blissfully ignorant of all things prison. But the actions of Dany Y. Ortiz are different.

Like you and me, Mr. Ortiz loves pizza. And again like you and me, he wasn't able to have it as often as he would like. Being the motivated individual that he is, Dany discovered the path to more pizza lay in removing spare change from parked cars.

Before you rise up in righteous indignation, know that Dany didn't take your lap-top. Or your tablet. Or your cell phone. No. Dany just wanted your tollway change—for pizza.

Who among us can't find it in our hearts to understand these powerful gastronomical longings? The incessant urges that would drive a man to pilfer loose coinage from a stilled automobile?

I do. I have felt the power of this lust myself ladies and gentlemen. Stood naked and helpless in its attraction. 

And I am not ashamed.

I know only too well the feel of a warm slice of pizza on my fingertips. The gorgeous, diabolical promise being offered as I bring it to my mouth. The comforting crunch that accompanies the first bite. 

The riotous symphony of warm, gooey cheese, fresh-baked crust, herb-laden tomato sauce and smokey pepperoni my overwhelmed taste buds struggle to take in.

I chew again, pressing the luminous and erotic mix of flavors into my sensory organs. Take! Eat! For thine art pizza! Behold thy glory! Know thy power! Remember the pizza and keep it holy!

"Take a chill pill" my dining companions sometimes suggest. 

But there is no chill pill for pizza. Ask Mr. Ortiz.

Those schooled in the fine art of geometry have attempted to instill in me the belief that a circle has no beginning and no end. That it is, in a sense, infinite.

And yet, as someone schooled in the fine art of pizza, I can assert with some authority that a pizza is not infinite. It has a beginning, a middle and sadly, an end. The emotional devastation that accompanies a pizza pan suddenly bereft of its reason for being is the proof.

As any mathematician worth his or her mozzarella should be able to tell you, the end is, well, the end. Despite its shape, pizza is finite.

This is the lurid and unspeakable truth behind Dany Y. Ortiz's depravity.

Let me be the first to petition the court for leniency. It was not the dark force of evil that propelled Dany to perform these acts, but a mere longing for the multi-faceted deliciousness that is pizza. Is this not entirely and easily understood?

We need to advocate for this young man, not punish him. If punitive action is called for, if only to satisfy the victims of these insignificant thefts, let us create a charge as benign as their motivation.

Does the justifiable pilfering of unsecured coins work?

And if the court finds that incarceration is indeed required, I beg of you: let it be a facility within the delivery zone of a four-star pizzeria.

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