This Carbon Based Life

By David Glenn Cox

It was a boom moment. It was a time of troubled waters though appearing calm. Political speech is like slam poetry, as sometimes the words have little to do with the meaning. But express themselves by the emotions they create and leave behind.

The Extreme Court found themselves in a pickle, caught between the Nixon precedent and the abortion ruling. Finding itself so politicized, that it is now forced into a corner. (You can have your abortion ruling or you can save your Demigod, but you can’t have both.) No matter how much they would like save Donald Twump, they don’t dare attempt to turn around a 9 to 0 court precedent.

So, they do the next best thing, they told him to go away. The court’s 8 to 1 decision caught in the limelight and in the wake of an unpopular abortion ruling. The court is telling Twump and his minions in the words of the late Tom Petty, “Don’t come around here no more.”

The doctor is looking at the chart fearing the patient is not going to make it, canceling all further medication. Harry Truman said, “If you want a friend in Washington, get a dog.” The Conservatives rule the Extreme court with a solid Republican leaning. But it doesn’t work that way for ex-Presidents. Ex-Presidents have no majority in Congress or influence with the court. Ask yourself, “What can an Extreme Court injustice such as myself, expect from a former odd ball President facing criminal charges on half a dozen fronts, and what precisely, can he do for me now?”

This is exactly the same court ruling Nixon got, save for one good Nazi friend. A dish best served cold, and for the same reason. “No! I don’t want to look at it! Take it away! Take that ugly baby out of here! Get that thing the fuck away from us! It might be contagious!” Doctor Frankenstein doesn’t want to see the creature he helped to create, because they are the creature that he created. “Daddy No!”

The Court has ruled, “Leave us out of this!” It cuts the legs out from under the Republican Congress, like a Ginsu knife through ripe tomatoes. All those nice convenient claims that the January 6^th Committee was somehow illegitimate as the only reason they wouldn’t testify, are now laid waste, and exposed as nonsense.

The Court ruled, that the Twump documents must be turned over to the committee. The committee has standing with the Extreme Court. The Court says, the committee has lawful standing. Now, give them the documents! It’s hard to say the committee doesn’t have standing, when the Extreme Court says it does. It would have been different in some hypothetical ruling where the documents must made available to esoteric concerned parties in litigation. The Court ruled the documents must be turned over to the committee, you know, those guys, them specifically.

Its one thing to lose an Extreme Court ruling, it’s quite another thing to lose the whole Extreme Court.

Drip, drip, drip, thud!

Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? That they would go to the wall attempting to hide documents, all the way to the Extreme Court. When the details alone paint a dark and damning picture.  If what we know already points to conviction, what else could Bonnie & Clyde be trying that hard to hide, that might make them look bad?

The Court’s ruling turns the traffic light from red to green, as the last train to Clarksville stokes the boiler. The Court is saying, “See Ya! Wouldn’t want to be ya!” We’re sorry, but the number you have reached is no longer in service. Don’t call us child, we’ll call you!

It’s that moment, the first lighting of the Christmas tree. That moment when everyone goes, “Ooooh!” and you know the holidays are truly upon us! Pilate has sent the case back to Jerusalem, and the mob is in a foul and ugly mood. The Marshall Amp has now been turned up to 11 and the Titanic band is warming up to play “Nearer my God to Thee!”

The first real crack in the ice, as Twump has been turned back from all succor. It means now to Twump, exactly what it meant to Nixon back in the day. There is nothing between Berlin and the Red Army, but a few Hitler youth and a few dead enders.

Maybe it was cloudy where you’re at and you didn’t see the sky crack open, but it did. A trove of hidden documents means, questions, questions, questions! New pointed questions with names and dates! Increased pressure to testify in light of the new documents. And the knowledge that the Court has washed its hands and turned its back forever. A washing away of all that is left of their Party structure, and it’s too late for them to jump ship…now.

If I live to be one hundred, I will never understand their casualness about the crime of sedition. Texting each other and printing documents. Are they cray, cray? “You’re honor, my client is obviously not competent to stand trial. To put his name on such incriminating documents, only goes to prove his mental incompetence!” It’s like they weren’t really taking it all that seriously. “Gonna rob the bank at one o’clock, wanna come?” Sure! Count me in!

Or they got slickered by the orange disaster. “It’ll be easy they said! Just play along, they said! It will help you in November, they said! When we call your name, just raise your hand, they said!” One part sedition, one part frat party, and Squiggy is bringing the beer. Then it all went wrong and as the contraption breaks down, it begins tearing itself to pieces. The structure quakes and the mortar is loosened, and the bricks will begin to fall where they may. “Paging John Dean.”

Like Nixon’s missing audio tape, the end of the story is now inevitable. Nothing can stop the committee now. Twump now stands naked before the court and naked before the public. It’s too late to catch the last train out of town… now.

“This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is perhaps, the end of the beginning.”

— Winston Spencer Churchill