Ain't we got grit

In the fabulous toy shop of sover-
eign power opened to the screwiest,
the crankiest, and the naughtiest
fringe of the minority in national
life - yes, this did happen here -
plainly the escapades of the Attor-
ney General draw the kind of fascin-
ation Nature, herself, reserves for
the tenacity of infancy's euphemisms
for its recreational savageries. His
impregnable Muslim ban, for example,
concealed its thrilling intentions,
within the cloak of incompleteness. 

For today's trick, we note the re-
turn of Pontius Pilate to the admin-
istration of justice in that juris-
dictional matrix we celebrate as Fed-
eral, when we're being stingy, lazy,
or just blatantly indifferent to dom-
estic abuses of power; and imperial,
when we're being xenophobes, clods 
for creationism, and transactional
crooks at the pinnacles of graft. 

Today, mirabile dictu, our bouncing
ferret of fungible distinctions has
launched his instincts in plain view,
to endow, unleash, and invigorate 
our legions of cultural enforcement
with the weaponry, discretion, and
ideological petting they so sadly
were denied under the United States,
in favor of sober and fair policing.

This is the context for the selection
of a stoned-out "originalist" to deny
Judge Merrick Garland his seat on the
Supreme Court of the United States;
and there's weeping in the Coliseum,
that the martyrs aren't playing nice.

Photo, Evgeny Mokhorev