1774 Mister Justice Gorsuch

1774  Mister Justice Gorsuch

Trust the faker Gorsuch.  Trust him to undo 70 years of good supreme court decisions and none of the bad.

Guy dresses up in a fancy lawyer suit; plays it cool in the Senate confirmation hearings, has a really good report card from a really good law school and also no heart.

This is the judge who wanted a truck driver who was stranded on the highway in subzero temperature to freeze to death in order to keep his job.  He is the judge who rules if you have a troubled or physically or mentally challenged student, don’t waste too many resources or too much money trying to get him to learn things he can’t and will never need anyway.  

This is someone who never met a rich person he didn’t like or a poor person he did.

And this is a lawyer who reads the law the way Billy Graham reads the bible.  Every word, every syllable, every punctuation mark is the whole truth. Heaven forbid Gorsuch slams a lawbook closed trapping a bug. Next time he’s open to that page he thinks the squashed bug is a punctuation mark that changes the whole meaning of the law.   It’s in the book.  So we follow it exactly.   Not even Billy would do something like that.

So here’s Mister Justice Gorsuch with the fashion plate suits and the Mike Pence hairdo.  And he’s from a state where the sheep farmers and the cattle ranchers are still fighting about who gets the carcass after the fight, and bazillionairs congregate in fancy ski lodges that look like log cabins but are made from Purpleheart wood harvested by night in Surinam and Guyana and sneaked into port on a freighter that ships cocaine as a diversion because the wood is more valuable and less legal. Customs goes for the cocaine and pays no attention to the wood.

And this is who they want to replace Scalia, the jolly fat man who wanted to sneak into your bedroom and steal your morning after pills and punch pinholes in the condoms and went duck hunting with Cheney who had a case before the supreme court.

Give Gorsuch a year and the only place you’ll be able to terminate a pregnancy is Denmark. Schools will be separate but equal.  Mississippi will revive the poll tax, and they’ll put micro RFID chips under the skin behind your left ear so that they won’t have to bother with DNA or dental identification when a drunk without a license t-bones you on an unlit highway and scoots off into the woods leaving you for dead-- which probably you will be.

There’ll be oil pipelines in the Park Avenue tunnels because Amtrak will have no money to run trains there.

But look at the bright side.  You’ll be able to buy leaded high octane gasoline again.  You have an ingrown toenail?  Just sit there between the heart attack and the gunshot wound in the emergency room waiting area where everyone is hoping everyone ahead of them in line will die before they’re seen and Volunteers using trucks that Meals on Wheels had to abandon will bring in cold chicken nuggets and warm Dr. Peppers from McDonalds because you haven’t had a bite to eat since day before yesterday.

Bring on the faker in the Armani judge costume.

I’m Wes Richards. My opinions are my own but you’re welcome to them. ®

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