I like to be prepared. That’s why I never leave home without the phone number of one of Maryland’s best criminal defense attorney’s, Paul Kemp, in my wallet. After all, you never know when, out of the blue, you’ll be charged with some criminal act. So, if I ever get arrested, Paul gets the call.

Likewise, I’ve committed to memory a list of handy defenses and excuses just in case I’m wrongfully accused of some wrongdoing. My list includes:

n Pleading the Fifth Amendment: refusing to talk to the police on the grounds that your words can be used against you at trial is not really a defense, it’s a protective act.

But pleading the fifth, although a constitutional right, brings with it in today’s culture the stigma of guilt. In the movies, only the bad guys plead the fifth.

n The insanity defense: the inability to know right from wrong excuses you from criminal intent, but it’s very difficult to prove, may land you, indefinitely, in a mental institution, and doesn’t look good on your resume.

n The “I’m not a lawyer” defense: currently in vogue with Solyndra executives and other white collar defendants, this attempt to escape blame rests on the contention that once the defendant’s corporate counsel OKs the criminal act, the defendant is no longer culpable.

“I’m not a lawyer, sir. I relied on counsel’s judgment on that,” testified one suspect at a recent Solyndra hearing. Nice try, but blaming your lawyer, your accountant or your spouse ain’t gonna’ hold up in court.

n Playing the victim card: claiming that your criminal prosecution is discriminatory, based on your race, gender, sexual persuasion or membership in some other victim group, may work with some sympathetic juries willing to return a nullification verdict. But, so far, this dodge isn’t available for white, heterosexual males like me.

n The “drugs and alcohol made me do it” defense: doesn’t work because, thankfully, juries are reluctant to reward criminals with acquittals just because they were high on booze or pills. At best, this plea may help mitigate your sentence after you’re convicted.

n Awareness of how other defendants escaped guilty verdicts is another part of preparedness. O.J. Simpson walked away from a double murder rap when Johnnie Cochran famously admonished the jury that: If the gloves don’t fit, you must acquit. So, lately, I’ve kept several pairs of undersized work gloves around the house and in my car.

But, this week, a whole new vista of not guilty defenses emerged when a federal jury acquitted Ulysses Currie of corruption, bribery and extortion charges. Back in 2002, Currie approached Shoppers Food Warehouse, a national grocery chain, and offered to lobby on Shoppers’ behalf with various state agencies and officials to obtain permits, liquor licenses, traffic lights, cash grants and other governmental favors.

Unfortunately, at the same time Currie offered to become a Shoppers state lobbyist, he was also serving as an elected state senator, which is precisely why Shoppers hired him. Using the power of his office, but failing to disclose his lobbying contract, Currie spent the next six years shilling for Shoppers with state agencies, for which Shoppers paid him $250,000.

Faced with a mountain of evidence, Currie’s lawyers came up with a novel defense: Currie is too dumb and disorganized to be guilty. But proving that your client is an idiot is tough when he holds bachelor’s and master’s degrees, was a career Prince George’s County school principal and spent the past 25 years in the state legislature, including chairmanships of 10 committees and task forces.

Dim-witted lawmakers who clutter up the legislature while adding nothing to the discourse are disparagingly called “furniture.” But in Annapolis, a chair isn’t a piece of furniture, it’s an important leadership position. And, until he was indicted, Currie chaired the Senate’s top money committee — Budget & Tax.

So, to explain away his resume, Currie’s lawyers presented a galaxy of Currie’s fellow politicians who swore that Currie was too dumb and disorganized to form criminal intent. Nice guy, but nobody’s home, they testified.

And it worked. The jury acquitted Currie and referred his case to the General Assembly for ethics violations.

Right, so the same politicians who flocked to Currie’s rescue, while failing to provide any criminal sanctions for conflicts of interest, are now going to punish him? Wow, talk about “a jury of your peers.”

Let’s see, Currie’s punishment will most likely range from the most lenient, a $10 fine paid into the Senate lounge’s coffee fund, to the most harsh, a six-week suspension of his reserved senate parking space.

As for me, I’m keeping a list in my wallet, right next to Paul Kemp’s phone number, of all the people willing to vouch, under oath, to my low intelligence and organizational disability.

Blair Lee is CEO of the Lee Development Group in Silver Spring and a regular commentator for WBAL radio. His column appears Fridays in The Gazette. His email address is blair@leedg.com.