BACK FROM THE DEAD

I realize that you're probably wondering where this blog has been for almost two years, and I can tell you that it's absence was through no fault of my own. As a prank, Justice Scalia, et. al., decided to change my Blogger password. It seems that one of the justices happened upon this blog by accident, as multitudes before them have, and didn't like what they saw. They simply didn't like that I portayed them as the immature dolts that they are. Now, two years later, I finally discovered their password. It literally took two years to put every conceivable group of letters together until I got it right. The password they set up was, "worstbossever." Losers!

As I'm sure you're aware, I'm not the newest guy here anymore. Last January G.W.B. appointed Sammy Alito, some Mexican guy. At first I was so excited that it would be my turn to haze someone. I would practice my hazing techniques at home constantly, ready for that fateful day. When that day came, however, it didn't go entirely as I had planned. As everyone gathered in the mess hall, I snuck up behind the unsuspecting Sammy and began choking him mercilessly with a firehose. I could not believe the reaction! The other justices got mad at me and called me a jerk and worse. But I got that idea from them, they did it to me at the Christmas party!

Well, anyway, since then they all love Sammy and still hate me. I can't win. Ever. To this day they treat me like a red-headed stepchild. I suspect that they even tried to poison me last month, which would explain why I keep having brain seisures. But I found a way to get back at them. If a justice ticks me off now, I "accidentally" make an accounting error in his or her paycheck. Oops! Sorry, I'll correct it and give you a new check Monday. Enjoy the weekend with no money!

PROBLEMS IN THE WORKPLACE

Most of the justices were in a good mood today because the Redskins won yesterday. Apparently, they all got together to watch the game, but failed to invite me, once again. It’s funny; I’ve been here almost a month, and haven’t made any progress on being accepted. One of the phrases I keep hearing flying around here is, “When’s Bill coming back?” referring to former Chief Justice Rhenquist. I swear these people need to read, “Who moved my cheese?”

Justice Thomas has really been on my last nerve, lately. Not only did he show up late today, but then he had the gall to ask me for a raise. I told him that I didn’t exactly know how that worked, but I would consult the constitution or the congress, or whatever. He gave me a dirty look. He claimed that Justice Souter, who was hired on at about the same time, was making fifteen cents an hour more than he was. I found this hard to believe, but promised I would look into it.

The real issue here is that no one should know or care how much their fellow employees make. I decided to install a new policy that justices will be written up if they discuss the earnings of others. I printed out a big sign and displayed it prominently by the time clock. Later, I found that same sign torn to shreds and strewn about the employee break room. I was so mad, I could spit.

Later, I got into an argument with Justice Stevens because he insisted he needed Wednesday off. I told him that I needed him here, as we have some important cases on the docket. He cursed me and slammed my office door. Sometimes I hate being the chief. I’m going to have to start demanding respect from the other justices, whether they like it, or not.

I had an unexpected surprise when Jane came to visit me. She wasn’t in my office two minutes when I heard some wise guy in the hallway yell, “No visitors during working hours, hypocrite!” It sounded like Justice Scalia’s voice, but I couldn’t be sure. By the time I opened my office door, the hallway was empty. They’ve gone too far this time, embarrassing me in front of my wife. I decided to schedule a mandatory employee meeting for tomorrow, immediately following work. We’ll get to the bottom of this insolence!

Until later,
John Roberts, #17

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

MORE ATROCITIES

This past week has been a total nightmare. Not only are the justices still on my case, they’ve actually upped the ante when it comes to making me feel unwelcome. On Friday someone spray painted “You’re no Rhenquist” on my van. It took about an hour to get it all off, and it took some of the factory paint off, as well.

I look forward to weekends so much now. It seems that’s the only time I’m sane anymore. This past weekend, however, was an exception, as the justices took their war on me to my house.

TO MY HOUSE! Where my wife sleeps- where my children play with their toys.

It happened late Saturday night. The whole family was already asleep, but I was still up polishing some old bowling trophies. I heard a loud thud at the front door and went to investigate. Before I could get outside, I heard several more loud bangs. Upon opening the door, I was greeted with an egg right in the kisser. I could hear maniacal laughter as I wiped the yoke from my eyes.

Just as my vision returned, I saw the forms of eight people dressed in black robes running down the street. I didn’t see their faces, but I was almost positive I knew who they were. On Monday morning I marched into the court building, hell-bent to end these atrocities, once and for all.

As expected, the other justices played dumb. They denied having been anywhere near Chevy Chase on Saturday, and acted almost insulted that I would accuse them of such a childish prank. I started to wonder if they really were innocent of this, and I had implicated them because of all the hazing I’ve been receiving at work. I quickly apologized to all the justices, but they were in no mood to accept. Justice Bader Ginsburg offered me an obscene gesture as she departed for the bench.

Justice Scalia suggested that I should treat everyone to lunch to make it up to them. I shelled out $50 in pizzas, but hardly anyone touched them. Some even implied that I was trying to clog their arteries with saturated fat, so as to kill them off, one by one. Whatever.

Until later,
John Roberts, #17

DYING OF THIRST

I can never win. Today at work I was criticized for not bringing any donuts. Several of the justices called me selfish, while others said that I was not a team player. I decided not to worry about their playing their little game, as there is no way I can win.

At lunch I had to sit alone, as usual. The other justices gathered at a far table while I was forced to eat with the JA’s. One of them, a 22 year old punk from Pittsburgh, was even comfortable enough with me to call me, “Bob.” What gall! I noticed that Justice Thomas wasn’t eating with the others, so I went to look for him. Yesterday he borrowed a dollar from me, and I wanted it back so I could get a soda from the machine.

I found him in one of the clerk’s office, massaging her shoulders. When he spotted me, he immediately quit. Slightly embarrassed, I kindly asked if I could get my dollar back. He acted like he didn’t know what I was talking about, saying he had never borrowed anything from me. What a liar! Oh, I see what it’s like, now.

Since I couldn’t get a soda, I went through the rest of the day thirsty. I can’t believe Clarence lied like that. What a jerk. By the end of the day, I just wanted to go home, already. I found a rude surprise in my locker. Someone had dumped their cat’s litter box all over my clothes. It smelled so horrible; I had to go home in my black robe. This was particularly bad because after work I had to stop at Wal-Mart to buy Jane a feminine product. The black robe drew unnecessary attention to me as I tried to discretely purchase the embarrassing item.

At the check-out I saw that they had a fridge full of cold sodas. Still dying of thirst, I decided to try a new product called, “Mountain Dew Pitch Black.” In honesty, it wasn’t very good. I ended throwing more than half of it away. Driving home, I thought that I should ask Justice O’Connor how many of the justices have cats. I’ll have to remember to do that before the weekend.

Until tomorrow,
John Roberts, #17

OLD TRICKS AND NEW ALLIES

Another rough day on the job. I thought I could soften the justices’ opinion of me by bringing in some Krispy Kreme donuts, but I was wrong. At least two of them, including Stevens, stated that they couldn’t have any because of their high blood pressure, and that I was trying to kill them. In the end, nobody ate the donuts, and they sat there all day and got hard. They also attracted a long line of sugar ants, which I was blamed for, as well.

Before court, I had to use the bathroom. I found out the hard way that someone had put cellophane over my toilet bowl. As I cleaned up the resulting mess, I heard chuckling outside the bathroom door. I also found that I had a note on my back which read, “Chief Jerk. “ When is this ever going to end?

I tried to put all the immature hazing behind me and concentrate on the Oregon assisted suicide case. I thrust myself into the argument, asserting my firm opinion that states cannot undermine federal authority when it comes to doctors prescribing medicines that will help end a terminal patient’s life. It was an emotional case because some of the justices have had cancer, and they hate me even more now for my hard-lined stance in this delicate matter. Oh, well, I guess I’m not here to make friends.

I did make a friend later, however. I received a strange note in my locker which instructed me to go to the boiler room. Nervous, I brought along my brass knuckles, just in case. In the boiler room I found Justice O’Connor. She let me know that she felt bad for the way I was being treated, and that she wanted to help me. Because she’s on her way out, she has little to lose in helping me, but she wants it kept a secret, nonetheless.

She noted that the hazing would continue, but that she would try to keep me abreast of what was going on. She handed me a widget and told me there was a bumper sticker on my van that I needed to remove. When I got to the parking lot, I realized she was right. Someone had placed a rainbow sticker on the back of my Toyota Sienna. I hope this madness ends soon, but in the meantime, it seems I have an ally. Thanks, Sandy.

Until tomorrow,
John Roberts, #17