Qua non est est non qua
Neil Gorsuchian
Arguments stand to
Repeal the Law—
Phantasmagorically
On his escutcheon,
Sancta simplicitas
Win, lose or draw.
Qua non est est non qua Neil Gorsuchian Arguments stand to Repeal the Law— Phantasmagorically On his escutcheon, Sancta simplicitas Win, lose or draw. The Silver Fox went with his wife To hear Don Juan or Carmen; The packed house overflowed with life, Rich couples gay and charming. Alas, the show had been sold out, He could not get a ticket, But Neil knew that—with proper clout— He had the means to nick it. Off in an alcove he espied His buddy Mitch McConnell, Who counseled, theft is justified When neither brains nor brawn’ll Achieve the end that you desire— The orchestra was tuning— And Mitch said, “I’ve a seat for hire, The price, some small impugning. “The ticket holder is delayed, His rightful way prevented: My boys are forming a blockade, Don’t look at me demented. “Now hurry up and take his seat, They’re set to raise the curtain, The show is starting; he is beat, Of that you can be certain.” “Gosh, thank you, Mitch,” Neil Gorsuch said, “You’ve been a real lifesaver: You or your crew, don’t be afraid To ask me any favor.” The Silver Fox, in his repose, Leaned back, began to hum, And music filled, as curtain rose, The auditorium. Out in the lobby, there’s a scene, It sounds just like a scuffle, But Mitch’s boys will intervene, And keep sounds of kerfuffle From penetrating in that hall Where somber notes are heard, Darkness prevailing over all As human hearts are stirred. The Court was ransacked—no one knew— But legal briefs were strewn around, Some cases, pending a review, Lay scattered covering the ground. File boxes had been overturned, The files, loose in disarray— Reason nor rhyme could be discerned, The mess spread this and that a way. The local cops, the county sheriff, The state police, even the feds, Were called: imagination’s tariff Proved too much and they scratched their heads. The news reporters made their noise— “How could this happen?" Questions wily Were asked unanswered, till with poise Strode in a beat cop named O’Reilly. “Let’s check the Court’s surveillance tape,” And, huddled round the monitors Conclusion they could not escape: The vandals had been senators! “I think this fellow may know things”— He singled out Neil Gorsuch by A wagging finger: “Ding-a-lings, Here is your corpus delecti.” A gasp was heard around the room; Neil Gorsuch yet the sly white fox Got busy grabbing up the broom, “There’s been no crime. Who picked the locks? “Why, don’t be silly, gentlemen, Officers, members of the press— No need for the bright halogen Of scrutiny: I’ll clean the mess.” His was no brilliant legal mind But adequate (if dull) was Neil’s— In ethics he fell far behind. Law school is tough, the bar’s unkind, But since he was the kind that steals.... His was no brilliant legal mind But, bending, he some way could find Even the way an orange unpeels. In ethics he fell far behind But a friend who the rules maligned Figured a cheat, and turned the wheels. His was no brilliant legal mind But Gorsuch knew that men were blind To subtle thefts, and backroom deals. In ethics he fell far behind, But when his buddy’s tricks aligned He leapfrogged those who had ideals. His was no brilliant legal mind: In ethics he fell far behind. The voters chose to “switch to Mitch,” Kentucky likes that kind of flam. Who chose to make the Court his bitch? You can when you have struck it rich, And Mitch is rich, so “Thank you, Ma’am.” The voters chose to “switch to Mitch” And even though he pulled a switch (A bait and switch) who gives a damn? Who chose to make the Court his bitch? The voters did: there was no glitch, They love his wealth, approve his scam: The voters chose to “switch to Mitch.” What he has sworn went to the ditch: Support? Defend? Not his program! Who chose to make the Court his bitch? McConnell did, so worked to stitch Collusion’s web—yippee! Grand slam! The voters chose to “switch to Mitch” Who chose to make the Court his bitch. What can it mean? I dreamt a dream! And that I saw a court Supreme Guarded by wise counselors Who were known as senators. I rejoiced both night and day Justice’s bulwark were they, I rejoiced both day and night Truth and fairness stood alright. But one senator instead Of guarding filled my heart with dread, And with slim majority Rent the door for devils three. Bias, Greed and Simony, An unholy Trinity In one person, stole a seat And justice perjured by escheat. The Court’s like a Titanic Long borne upon the waves, Course steady without panic Her ocean course she braves. Unknown, off in the distance A floating block of ice— “What ho! Cut off the pistons! Tonight brings sacrifice." A Party of ambitions Afraid of no foul deed, Sans culture’s inhibitions In adamantine greed. “Reverse course!” “Turn it sideways!” “Too late! Too late!” one cries— The density of pride weighs: “Can such a ship capsize?” The still night sends a shudder, The air sits deathly chill, Justice has broke her rudder— The chambers start to fill. “Bail! Bail!” but so much effort— It’s best abandon ship, But O how many suffered; Still Fortune held its grip. The night was filled with silence, Beneath the starlight’s gleam, Some scream broke forth with violence But all was as a dream. The failure was titanic, She drank the ocean wave, As soon submerged all panic In silence of the grave. The high court was subverted When Garland was denied; “I never meant to hurt it,” Ol' Mitch McConnell cried. Denying him a hearing— Though up or down the vote— Concomitant to spearing The Court’s voice in the throat. Whatever the intention, Ol' Mitch he done the deed, Destroying rich convention And protocol with speed. Installment of another— Whomever—must bear taint As strong winds start to wuther, Come storms beyond constraint. So Mitch McConnell owns it, Regardless what he planned, Destruction in its onset As augurs something grand. Sit back, enjoy the thunder, As lightning fills the sky; Calamity brings wonder, Just hope that you don’t die. Through fraud and theft unvarnished America’s top court Finds reputation tarnished By more than just a wart. Gangrenous cancer grows there, Now hard to cut it out, As we must presuppose there The substance all in doubt. Metastasizing falsehood When Gorsuch took his seat Repeals what prudence calls good And ushers its defeat. If only carcinoma Could just be wished away, But—justice in a coma— There’s little left to say. Mitch likes Chinese, but he likes black. Soul food can give a heart attack, And since he doesn’t want to die He takes his soul food on the sly. The one is tasty, and the other Spicy and strong enough to smother, So Chinese makes his daily fare, The other, when he’s time to spare. The church in God above rejoices And southern gentlemen have choices, Though in some matters not so great As when slaves waited at the gate. To make the country great again For some of the people, and some men Is all to which rich Mitch aspires But wealthy men don’t preach to choirs. He shuffles though his daily rote But spicy times the press don’t note; Till then, it’s stir-fry, but the grease From deep-fry’s always sure to please. |
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