The Basis of Wisdom

I read this article about Sotomayor, which says the following about a controversial speech she made in 1997:

In that speech, Sotomayor said, "I would hope that a wise woman with the richness of her experiences would, more often than not, reach a better conclusion" than a wise man.

...

But he [Sessions of Alabama, the top Republican on the Judiciary Committee] said that he was still worried about Sotomayor's past statement.

"It basically suggests that a judge should not aspire to be objective since that's impossible to do. It's inevitable that your personal views would affect your decision-making. And to me, that's directly contrary to our great history of blind justice in America," Sessions added.

I am not really for or against Sotomayor. I do not have enough experience or knowledge of her to make an adequate opinion, but the idea that the senators want a judge who will not apply wisdom and understanding and compassion and experience to the cases that they must judge frightens the holy cow poop out of me.

Where else does wisdom come from, but from our expierences?

Who wants a judge that judges without wisdom?

If they want a judge that does not have the capacity to apply experience, then they should set a computer to the task. For a computer will use the law as the only criteria, the only input, by which to make a decision.

Oh my, now that will make an interesting sci-fi, horror story. Yes, I can hear it now. "What do you think you're doing, Mr. President?"

I saw something today

The strangest thing.

As I was coming out of work, two people were standing in the parking lot behind one of the cars. At their feet was an open grate. The woman, wearing business dress, brown skirt and dress shirt, was bent forward at the waste, staring down into the hole. She looked like a statue, not even moving the whole time I watched. And the man, also wearing business attire, stood, not looking in the hole, not really looking at anything. His brief case was set on the ground beside the open grate.

The hole was in the way of the car moving. I wondered if that was why they stood there. Or maybe she dropped something down in? Was there someone down in there? Did they open it? Or were they waiting for someone to come and close it? 

My curiosity was prickling. And so was everybody else's. The girl walking two steps behind me, talking on her cell phone, was screwing up her forehead as she watched. 

I wanted to ask questions. But we don't really do that in this society. Do we?

This would be the makings of an interesting short story. What story can you make out of this?