Monday, October 31, 2005

JUDGE DREAD   Do you really want to scare some people on Halloween? Dress as a Supreme Court Judge. All you need is an old black gown from graduation; think "Pomp and Circumstance," shove a broomstick up your ass, and you're there. Scares the daylights out of me.   Cheap shot?   Tonight's the night. The night when the dead walk, and spirits wander. Samhain, All Hallows’ Eve—Cross-quarter day halfway between the Autumn Equinox and Winter Solstice—the twilight of such day as sunset fadeth in the west, which by and by black night doth take away…   Where was I? Oh yes. Here come the judge. Suppose I ate the sacred mushroom tonight, fell into a deep trance, and left the lump of clay for a little out of body experience. Suppose I flew to Washington, D.C. on the wings of Freds, and dived straight into the simmering shallows of the brain pan of George W. Bush, in short, took shamanistic possession of the body Dubya. I, acting as President, would immediately withdraw the current nominee, Judge Aleto, and would tell the press, the Senate, and Senor Turd Blossom that “I’ll get back to you in a minute.”   Judge Aleto is much too well qualified for the job. He is said to be a brilliant jurist; that he has sterling academic and intellectual credentials.  When I hear his praises being heaped up by the likes of Orrin Hatch, I don’t know about you, but I might as well be listening to some Sheik of Araby laud the scholarship and rectitude of an Imam expert on Sharia law.     Who would I pick? After spinning Dub’s head around a few times like Linda Blair in the Exorcist, I’d get out my litmus tests, and lay out my agenda. Taking a hint from Kurt Vonnegut, I would be more concerned in my candidate’s familiarity with texts such as the Sermon on the Mount than the Constitution. Selected simple precepts, like   Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.   Blessed are the peacemakers…   Love your enemies   Bless them that curse you   Do good to them that hate you… or   Judge not, lest ye be judged.   On to the Litmus tests. As the resident in the President, I would require my Supreme Court candidate to be:   Female.   Non-Caucasian.   Preferably, Non-Christian. Yes, I know I’ve been going on about Jesus’ most famous sermon, but let me mix a dash of Walt’s Barbaric Yawp with Scripture: “Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes.” "My name is Legion; for we are many." I could let go of this one, but it would be nice to have a Buddhist or Animist on the Court.   An immigrant from a third world nation, familiar with the poverty in which the majority of the human race lives (Blessed are the poor…), who nevertheless has achieved success in the first world by her wits and talent.   She must have suffered the genital mutilation aka female circumcision as prescribed by Muslim custom and Islamic law, thus having experienced in her own body the extremity of patriarchal monotheistic justice rendered, literally, on her sex.   Who is she who meets these requirements. There is only one. My candidate for Sandra Day O’Connor’s judgement seat is…   Sade.   Well, no. I’d like it to be Sade, but after googling like mad, I find I was mistaken. She meets all the requirements but the last. She was born in Nigeria, a haven of “FGM” (Female genital mutilation), but her father was a professor and her mother was a nurse, and she grew up mostly in England. No FGM. I had confused her with another beautiful woman of color: the Somali supermodel and United Nations Special Ambassador for the Elimination of Female Genital Mutilation, Waris Dirie. She was “infibulated” at age five.   I don't see how the old lechers of the Senate could resist her formidable beauty. If my Supreme Court nominee Ms. Dirie is not a U.S. Citizen, the swearing in can be preceded by a special naturalization ceremony.   Well, I’m well into the witching hour. Time for Dr. Omed to take the sacred mushroom and perchance that dream.   I can fly I can fly I can fly. 11:57:30 PM    comment []