A thousand monkeys in a room
Will type out Shakespeare, given
Infinity, so we presume,
Be they inclined to “scriven”
(As even Man was driven).
A court has no infinity
In which to make a ruling,
Crafted opinions meant to be
No mockery’s tomfooling
Or needful of retooling.
So what’s the odds, with such a judge
As claims a judgeship stolen,
The verdict will toward Justice nudge,
Hypocrisy so swollen,
Not parsed by semicolon.
So what’s the odds, with Gorsuch sitting
A court will even near
Vicinity of Justice—splitting
For favors insincere
When moneybags appear?
A judge that so clandestinely
Upon his seat was sat
Must make ruling a mockery—
As though an alley cat
Pronounced upon a rat.
The monied powers put him in,
The seat they stole him owning,
And though he sat there with chagrin
How can there be atoning
When cheaters set the zoning?
Woe to the person who accepts
Some stolen property—
Cabal comprising such adepts
Conferred that seat, and he
Owes them the infamy.
Recall the name, then: Gorsuch. He
Discredited a Court,
Destroying all propriety
Which, by the long and short,
His presence there does thwart.