THE GREASY SPOON

I had a great conversation with Justice O’Connor today. Sandy and I met for coffee in a remote diner in Bethesda before court today. It was a real greasy spoon, but Sandy said no one would recognize us because the average patron there is illiterate and doesn’t keep up with current events. Surprisingly, she was right; no one recognized us, despite our black robes. Somebody actually asked us if we were part of the Renaissance Festival.

Sandy explained to me that when someone starts a new job, they automatically receive a series of “ignorant” cards, or “Trump” cards, as she calls them. These Trump cards are not literal, but symbolic. They basically represent mistakes that you’re allowed to make once, because you’re new. For example: “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I couldn’t park there; it won’t happen again,” then turn in your parking Trump card. Or, “Oh, gee, I didn’t realize we couldn’t sleep in the break room during session,” then turn in your sleeping in the break room during session Trump card (there are separate Trump cards for sleeping in different places).

I was excited about taking advantage of this information. Sandy told me not to use them all at once, as I’ve been appointed to this job for life. That made a lot of sense. Sandy and I also talked about her family and why she’s retiring (sick of the harassment- Justice Thomas, ‘nuff said). I thanked her profusely for taking me under her wing and filling me in on the lesser-known details of working at the Supreme Court. Before she left, she warned me that the hazing would continue, and to be watching for a paper bag on fire in front of my office door.

On the way to court I stopped at a 7-11 to get a Big Gulp. The girl working knew who I was and asked for my autograph, and I obliged. Searching for my wallet, I was horror-stricken to realized that I had left it at home. The girl told me not to worry about paying for the drink, as it was “on the house.” It’s good to be chief!

Until later,
John Roberts, #17

THE COLOR OF MONEY

Today was the justices’ payday. At our noon recess, they all ran down to human resources, nearly knocking each other over in excitement. They got into a single-file line, and were each given their paychecks. Because I’m new, and wasn’t in the last pay cycle, I didn’t get a check. This seemed to make the other justices happy, judging by the way they stared at me while holding up their checks and smiling.

The excited group of fools all left the building at once. They cheerfully ran down all the steps of the Supreme Court building, sometimes jumping down several steps at one time (not Justice Stevens). I peered outside to see where they were going. They all walked down the road to the nearby bank to cash their checks. They looked silly scampering down the street in their black robes, but I still felt envious.

When they returned, they taunted me with their wads of cash. Justice Scalia showed off his “roll” of money. He said that he always keeps his money in a roll, with the highest bills on top, “just like a gangster,” he said. Some of the other justices took to counting their money in front of me as they stared me in the eyes. By this point, I had gotten the point. They had gotten paid, and I hadn’t, so what? I let the others know that it didn’t bother me because I have over three hundred dollars in the bank, and all my bills were already paid. They just laughed at me and walked away.

I tried not to let them bother me as we were giving an abortion-related ruling today, the first in my tenure. It seems the state of Missouri was trying to stop a female prisoner from being transported to a Planned Parenthood office in St. Louis to have an abortion. What struck me very odd about this case was that the petitioner’s name was Jane Roe. If my mind serves me right, that was the woman that started all of this abortion mess back in 1973. Surely she’s too old to get pregnant by now! And why is she in prison?

During a break, it was explained to me that it was a bogus name used to protect the identity of the woman, kind of like using John Doe for an anonymous man. Oh, O.K., I get it now, except that I knew a John Doe when I was growing up. That was his real name, though.

Until later,
John Roberts, #17